


The Bargain

by GoodbyeBlues



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Descriptions of injuries/wounds, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Medicinal Drug Use, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Regency, Romance, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Smut, Soldier Bucky Barnes, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlues/pseuds/GoodbyeBlues
Summary: Forced to wed to keep his inheritance, Steve finds himself married to a handsome but gravely wounded soldier. There are a number of issues surrounding this arrangement, but the most prominent one is also the most unexpected of all: Steve's dying husband is no longer dying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! A few quick notes before we begin!
> 
> \- Taming of the Brew is still ongoing, I just had the urge to write this and so will be working on both now. There are no update schedules for either, but they are both being given attention.  
> \- I have never EVER written anything historical, so please excuse the ambiguous setting, era, titles, whatever. I don't really research stuff, so if this is glaringly wrong in any way, I apologize. I am my own editor, so all blame falls to me! In my head it takes place in the 1800's, but the actual year is really up to you, if you care about that stuff.  
> \- I apologize if the language is stilted at first, and if there are parts that are not in keeping with the era, as I said, I'm new to the historical stuff, and I also like to have fun with dialogue ;)  
> \- Sexual orientation is not an issue in this universe.  
> \- This is based on a novel by the same title, and the first chapter really draws from it. I'll deviate for my own purposes as I see fit later on. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!! <3

 

The Countess of Calderon was buried with all the pomp and ceremony expected for someone of her rank. The church bells tolled in the silence of the courtyard as she was laid to rest, the staff of her household dressed in black and suitably somber. The late Countess had been a beautiful, genuine woman, fair of heart and quick to laugh. Her dependents had been vastly proud of her. 

 

The chief mourner was the Countess’ only child, Lord Steven Grant Rogers. He performed his duties at the funeral with stoic grace, his strong features locked in a marble expression of grief. He and his mother had been very close. 

 

The last ritual of the day was the reading of the will. The family lawyer, Mr. Coulson, had come to perform the task. It was a lengthy one, with numerous bequests for honoured servants and special charities. 

 

The will held no surprises, until the very end. Lord Steven sat quietly in the crowd of listeners as Mr. Coulson cleared his throat before stating the Countess’ final wishes. 

 

“And for my beloved son Steven, I hereby bequeath and ordain…” 

 

The lawyers voice filled the room, the listeners riveted. When he finished, there was a murmur of startled voices, all attention in the room suddenly focused on the Lord. 

 

Steve sat utterly still for a long moment, before leaping to his feet in a blazing rage. 

 

“She did  _ what?” _

 

* * *

In his dreams, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was galloping across the Spanish hills on horseback, his thighs gripping the strong muscles of his horse, Winter. He laughed aloud as the wind whipped his dark hair behind him, the sun on his face and the pull of the breeze making him feel as though they could run together forever, rejoicing in the exuberance of their shared joy and strength. 

 

A scream of agony startled him awake, and he automatically reached for his his rifle under his pillow. He came up empty handed though, only capturing a searing burst of pain for his trouble as his half-dead body failed to respond properly. His left side was mangled, refusing to be moved, his useless body anchoring him to the bed. 

 

James opened his eyes to the stark reality of the military hospital, and pulled a rough lungful of air in, only for it to be let out in a rattling sigh. Right. Winter had died in battle, and he had almost gone along with her, but his stubborn body had refused to accept its own fate. 

 

It wouldn’t be long now anyway. 

 

He tightened his jaw against the pain and looked to the side of the small room. It wasn’t much, but his rank and so-called heroism had earned him a private room, allowing him the privilege of suffering in solitude. Small blessings, he supposed. 

 

He wasn’t alone in any case at the moment, his eyes catching on the form of his sister, sitting by the small window with some type of needlework in her hands, brow creased in concentration and exhaustion, face heavy with preemptive grief. This was infinitely harder on her than it would ever be for him. 

 

He wasn’t afraid of death, having accepted the inevitability of it as soon as the artillery shell had hit his unit, but the fate of his sister, that was something he still could not come to terms with. Unmarried and too independent for her own good, Becca had been his only family for as long as he could remember, and now he would be leaving her alone in the world.  

 

His movement on the bed had garnered her attention though, so he pasted on a smile and met her eyes as she set her work down and approached the bed. 

 

He accepted her help in sitting up and taking a sip of water before he spoke, no longer argumentative when it came to accepting her aid. He had quickly been divested of his pride when he learned how horrifically damaged his body had become, and how few nurses the hospital had. 

 

“It’s getting dark Becca, you should be getting home soon. You’ve been here all afternoon.” His voice was raspy and quiet with disuse and pain, not able to disguise his discomfort with his tone as well as he had with his body. 

 

Becca gave a slight smile, too familiar with his Sergeant’s voice to be swayed by the lightly given order, before gesturing to the bottle on the bedside table. “At least let me top you off first before I leave.”

 

James gave a reluctant nod and accepted a spoonful of the laudanum from her patiently waiting hand, the added wine and spices not at all masking the bitter taste of the opioids. 

 

With a second glance she confirmed both the laudanum and the water were set within reach of him, knowing the medication would have to be touched again before sunrise. She gently kissed her brother’s head and promised to come back the following day before taking her leave. 

 

James eyed the bottle as his vision began to shift, the opium doing it’s work as colours intensified and pain lessened. His eyelids drifted shut. 

 

While he wouldn’t have minded living a few more decades, he thought absently, he certainly couldn’t complain. His thirty-one years had given him a mostly rewarding life. The ability to travel, to fight honourably for his country, to make friends closer than brothers. His only regrets were about Becca. If only he could leave her with enough to secure her future. If only…

 

The numbing warmth of the opium caressed his worries and he slipped back into a quiet sleep.

 

* * *

Steven entered the study with a frown on his face and determination in his eyes, his glare targeted towards his Uncle Alexander, who stood examining one of the various paintings on the wall. 

 

“Stop evaluating the furnishings Uncle, you will  _ not  _ be getting this estate.”

 

A better man may have been embarrassed by this accusation, but Alexander only smiled blandly. “Are you getting uncomfortable with your birthday coming so soon Steven? Thirty is just around the corner and it seems you find yourself still unwed.” He pounced on the subject on everyone’s minds unapologetically, a cat jumping into a flock of pigeons. 

 

“Why should I be embarrassed?” Steve quelled the fire in his veins and replied with equal blandness. He knew better than to let his uncle get under his skin. “I’m sure I’ll have some difficulty deciding which offer to accept, but there is no doubt that I will be married in time to meet the conditions of my mother’s will.” Steve pulled the bell cord as he spoke, and the attending butler, Clint, arrived promptly. “Please send my uncle’s carriage around, he was just leaving.”

 

Clint gave an imperceptible smirk before politely directing Alexander from the study. 

 

“I’ll be looking forward to the wedding invitation Steven,” Alexander called over his shoulder as he exited, “assuming a wedding will be taking place, of course.”

 

Steve waited until he heard the front door of the estate swing shut before slumping down into the nearest chair, scrubbing his hands across his face. 

 

“So.” 

 

Steve raised his head to find Sam standing in front of him, relieved to see his best friend’s compassionate expression in the face of such an emotionally draining day. 

 

“That was pretty crafty of Sarah.” Sam took the chair beside Steve as he spoke, giving Steve a lighthearted pat on the knee as they sat together. 

 

Steve couldn’t help the twitch of his mouth despite the current situation. He always figured his mother would go out with a bang. 

 

“You know she only wanted to make sure you’ll be happy in life Steve. She just didn't want to see you end up alone. I’m sure she wasn’t trying to upset you.” Sam’s tone conveyed the fond exasperation for Sarah that Steve felt so strongly at the moment. 

 

Steve sighed. “I can see where she was coming from, her good intentions are written all over this. But to threaten to give the estate and our wealth to Pierce unless I marry by my 30th birthday? I don't care about the money, but to have our home, our staff, under Pierce’s control... She's really forcing my hand here. You know I'm not interested in that type of life, being tied to someone.” Steve glanced to his friend and could practically see the cogs turning in his head. 

 

“What if you were able to legally satisfy the contract without necessarily having to keep your betrothed?” Sam asked thoughtfully. 

 

Steve shook his head. “No good, the will specifically stated I'll forfeit everything if I marry and then immediately divorce. She really thought it through.”

 

Sam tapped his fingers to his lips thoughtfully. “I was thinking more along the lines of  _ ‘til death do you part.’ _ ”

 

Steve went pale. “Sam, no! Are you crazy! I would never take a life over this!”

 

Sam jerked around to face Steve properly. “No you idiot, I don't mean murder! What do you take me for?” 

 

Steve looked abashed but persisted. “Then what are you talking about?” 

 

“I mean someone already dying, Jesus. Friends for twenty years and you jump right to murderer. You make one small suggestion, and bam, murderer!”

 

“Oh my God Sam, let it go. It's been a long day.” Despite the weight of the situation, Steve found himself having to stifle a laugh. 

 

“I happen to know someone who I think would help you out. Good guy, we were in the same unit together before things went to hell.”

 

Steve sobered immediately. He knew what Sam had faced, and how lucky he was to have come out unscathed, physically at least. The reminder that others hadn't been so lucky hit Steve square in the chest. 

 

“Yah,” Steve replied roughly, “I'll meet him.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

“... So if I agree to this, you'd look after Becca financially for the rest of her life.”

 

The brunette looked to Steve for confirmation, and Steve had to shake himself for a moment before responding.

 

Sam had gone the day following their discussion to speak to the man, Sergeant James Barnes, who had agreed to meet Steve and discuss a possible arrangement. Steve had been prepared for the extent of the man's injuries based on Sam's description. He hadn't been prepared for his arresting good looks hidden beneath the pallor of death.

 

Soft looking hair framed a chiseled face, drawn tight with lines of exhaustion. Steve could see what were once laugh lines around stormy grey eyes now creased with pain, and full lips pulled taught with discomfort.

 

His strong body was piled high with threadbare blankets, trembling slightly despite the warm June air. The exposed skin that Steve could see was pale and tinged with grey, his fists balled tightly at his sides on the bed. Steve didn't want to imagine what was under the bandages.

 

Steve kept coming back to his eyes though. They were heavy with the weight of his situation, but still sparked with good humour and intelligence.

 

Steve swallowed.

 

“Yeah,” he replied roughly. “If you agree to the set amount, I'll have my lawyer draft up an agreement. You can obviously have your own council look it over as well before you sign, but it will ensure Becca is looked after.”

 

“The amount…” James trailed off.

 

“We can discuss an increase if it's not acceptable.” Steve was quick to jump in. “I want this to be fair for you.”

 

“Steve, this amount,” James had to pause, a wave of pain seeming to roll through him. Steve had to twist his hands together to keep from reaching out to the man. “This is more than generous. Can you really afford to give this much?”

 

Steve nodded. “If you agree to the marriage, this will be a drop in the bucket compared to what I'll inherit.”

 

James closed his eyes for a long moment, and Steve had to look to his chest for the telltale rise and fall of breath to reassure himself that James hadn't quietly slipped away.

 

Grey eyes opened and focused through the pain.

 

“Agreed then.” James’ voice rang with surety. “Draft the papers and come back tomorrow morning with your lawyer and a priest. We should be married as soon as possible.”

 

“Do you not want more time to consider…” Steve trailed off, realizing time was not something the man in front of him had.

 

James was kind enough not to call him out on it, shaking his head politely. “It's a very generous offer, and Sam vouched for you. That's all I need to know.”

 

Steve nodded and went to leave, but James was quick to grab his hand and pull him back in a surprising burst of strength.

 

“Steve Rogers,” James met his eyes and Steve swore he saw a glint of mirth hidden there. “Would you do me the honour of being my husband? I can offer you nothing but my name, although I suppose that for your purposes, that will suffice.”

 

Steve couldn’t help but grin. “The honour would be all mine, James.”

 

“Bucky,” the Sergeant replied quietly. “If we are to be wed, you should know I prefer Bucky.”

 

“Bucky it is, then.” Steve couldn’t help squeezing his hand before releasing it and moving to the exit, pausing in the doorway for a moment for a final look back. “Thank you for this. Truly,” he said quietly before ducking out into the hall.  

 

* * *

 

Bucky collapsed back onto his pillows and let out a shaky breath. His body was on fire, hands trembling where they fisted the sheets.

 

He hadn't wanted Lord Rogers, _Steve,_ to see him struggle.

 

The man was Adonis himself, tall and golden, a striking display of health and power against the pallor of the hospital walls.  

 

His hand shook as he reached for his medicine on the bedside, the bite of the laudanum hardly registering anymore. He closed his eyes and leaned into the starched hospital pillows.

 

If he was to be married before he died, he thought ruefully, visions of sky blue eyes and smooth stretches of skin dancing behind his eyelids, he could hardly ask for anyone more.

 

* * *

 

Steve sat on the steps of the hospital stairwell, heedless of his expensive clothes, struggling to collect himself.

 

Walking from the room after the charming proposal he had just accepted, he couldn’t help but feel like a vulture circling a dead body. He took some comfort in the fact the James, _Bucky,_ seemed very agreeable, even relieved with their arrangement, but still. Steve felt a little sick with himself.

Beyond those feelings though, was the absolute devastation at seeing someone who had obviously led a full, warm life, be reduced to such an existence.

 

The stench of the hospital still clung to the inside of his nose as he finally pulled himself together and started towards his driver, his glimpse into not just Bucky’s plight, but that of the hundreds of soldiers packed into the small hospital wearing heavily on his mind.

 

He directed his driver home, thoughts already beginning to come together.

 

He needed to talk to Phil.

 

* * *

 

“You’re going to marry a dying Sergeant,” Phil repeated incredulously.

 

“Yes.” Steve was unapologetic. “We also need to fully fund a hospital.”

 

The lawyer sighed, knowing better than to argue. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

* * *

 

The next day dawned bright and warm. A perfect day for a wedding, Steve thought absurdly.

 

When he arrived at the hospital, he was pleased to see that not only had his intended survived the night, he was also mercilessly beating Sam at a game of chess.

 

He rapped his knuckles on the open doorway before entering the room.

 

“Thank Christ!” Sam burst out, standing as Steve entered. “Is it possible to cheat at chess Steve? Tell me it’s possible. There’s no way I’m this bad at chess. He’s cheating!” Sam pointed a dramatically accusing finger at the figure in the bed.

 

Bucky’s smile was honest as apple pie, and Steve didn’t believe it for a second. “He’s really bad at chess Steve.”

 

Steve nodded gravely. ‘I’ve played you before, and I have to agree with my fiancé Sam. You’re horrible at chess.”

 

Steve directed a conspiring wink towards Bucky as Sam grumbled something about being ganged up on, and was pleased to see he had a bit of a flush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears today. It made him look more alive, and something warm stirred in Steve’s stomach at the sight.

 

Phil appeared in the doorway at that moment with the priest, bringing a more serious tone with him. He introduced himself and laid the contract in front of Bucky, who read it carefully before signing.

 

After taking his own turn to scan and sign the papers, Steve took his place at Bucky’s bedside, collecting his cold hand in his. Steve squeezed his fingers and met his gaze, trying to channel some of the tranquility Bucky seemed to be feeling. His entire manner seemed calm and content, at peace with what they were about to do, despite the physical pain Steve knew he must be feeling.

 

Every breath Bucky took humbled Steve, and he couldn’t help but take a moment admire the man who was about to become his husband.

 

The priest’s words were a blur, until the words _‘til death do you part’_ jumped out at him. Steve fought the lump in his throat. He had never wanted to be married, but always expected that if he did, it would have been a happy occasion, not one tainted with impending death.

 

Bucky squeezing his hand brought him back to the present, and Steve said the appropriate _I do’s._ He slid a fine gold band on to the hand of his betrothed, an impulse purchase last evening after his hospital visit, Bucky’s eyes widening slightly at the gesture. He had obviously thought there would be no rings. Steve slid the matching gold band into Bucky’s palm and soon Bucky was placing it on Steve’s finger before they were announced as married and being prompted to kiss.

 

Steve leaned over the side of the bed, Bucky bringing his hands up to frame Steve’s face, thumbs brushing away the moisture that had gathered there. Steve hadn’t realized he’d been crying.

 

“Please don’t weep for me,” Bucky whispered, his breath ghosting over Steve’s lips.

 

“I’m not,” Steve whispered back stubbornly, voice quietly breaking, “it’s my wedding day, I’m very happy.” He punctuated his reply with a sniffle.

 

Bucky smiled then, full and luminous. “Good.”

 

Their lips met, and Steve knew then that despite his words, his heart was irreparably breaking.

  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Infinity War day everyone! Here's hoping they do not touch one glorious hair on the heads of our favourite boys tonight! I'll be posting this chapter and chapter 4 today to take our minds off the impending insanity we all get to witness later on. Thanks for all the love so far!! <3

 

 

Bucky was quite certain that, had he not already been on death's doorstep, Becca would have killed him. 

 

She settled for throwing a chair across the room and screaming at him, a nurse running in at the sound of her outburst, politely requesting they keep it down.

 

Bucky lifted his eyebrows at the display. “Are you about done?” 

 

Becca smoothed down her skirts and righted the chair, thumping down in it beside his bed. “How dare you make that choice for me.” 

 

Bucky flinched at the waver in her voice. He almost prefered the chair throwing. 

 

“It's for the best Becca. You won't have to worry about money, you won't have to take a husband just to survive. You can travel. Hell, you can do anything you want now. Please accept it, if only to make me feel better about things.” It was a low blow, but Bucky knew it would cause his sister to bend. 

 

Becca sighed. “You're such an asshole.” 

 

Bucky smiled tiredly. He had won. “Love you too darling.”

 

The door cracked open and a disheveled sandy blonde head poked its way inside. “Sergeant Barnes? I'm Clint Barton, Steve's chauffeur. Are you about ready to go sir?” 

 

Bucky blinked. “I'm sorry?” 

 

“To the manor, I mean. I was told to pick you up. You are James Barnes, right? Married to one Steve Rogers?” 

 

Bucky nodded, mouth oddly dry at the name. The contract was complete. Steve had no reason to associate himself with Bucky now that the wedding had taken place. 

 

“Ah, well,” Clint brightened with the confirmation. “First, congratulations on your marriage. I hadn't even been aware Steve had been seeing someone. The old dope, keeping his love interests a secret, I always knew he was a romantic…” Clint’s voice and joyful smile faded as he took in Bucky's perplexed expression. “Regardless, he's arranged for you to be transferred to his estate, under the care of the house doctor. Unless you object and wish to remain here of course.” 

 

Bucky took in the peeling walls, the thin blankets, and the overwhelming stench of death and decay. It was a poor place to die. “I'm more than ready to go.”

 

* * *

The carriage ride was a nightmare, every bump and pebble in the road jostling the cot Clint had set up in the back. 

 

Bucky's face was white with pain by the time they reached the property, even after having taken the maximum dose of medicine he was allowed. The opium affected his vision, but he was pretty sure his eyes weren't deceiving him when it came to the size of the mansion. The place was overwhelming, sprawling across a green lawn, lush with gardens and trees of all sorts. Bucky thought he could hear a brook babbling close by. He hoped so, otherwise he'd have to add blood bubbling in his ears as a new symptom on an already very full list. 

 

He swallowed his pride and a scream as Clint fetched another staff member and they moved his cot inside, his vision blacking out in spots despite the utmost care being taken. 

 

Bucky hardly saw the inside of the house as they moved him through it, too overwhelmed by pain, and by the time they deposited him in a bed far nicer than anything he had ever slept in, Bucky had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

 

* * *

He awoke to the sound of a pencil lightly scraping across a sheet of parchment. Bucky cracked an eye open and took in the room slowly in the dim light. 

 

The word  _ room  _ was stretching it. Bucky thought  _ atrium  _ may be a better descriptor. The space had glass walls on three sides and a glass ceiling, providing a gorgeously full view of the gardens he had glimpsed on his way in. There was indeed a small stream flowing freely across the property. 

 

The gardens outside were surrounded by a number of tall hedges and trees, providing the room with a sense of privacy despite its openness to the outside world.  

 

Bucky could see stars beginning to dot the sky, and noticed the glow lighting the room wasn't really from lighting at all. A single candle burned in the space, but the full moon was mostly responsible for the luminescence. 

 

Bucky tilted his head back with a sigh. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought he was lying in a grassy meadow stargazing instead of indoors in a bed. He hadn't been outside in what felt like weeks, and now here he was with the next best thing. He hadn't felt this at peace in a long while. 

 

The sound of the pencil caught his attention again, and he turned his head to see Steve seated by the windows with a sketchpad in hand, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth slightly in concentration. He had his knees pulled into the chair and was using them as a sort of desk, making his large frame seem much smaller than it actually was. Bucky found it to be oddly endearing. 

 

Steve must have noticed he had woken up, because he flipped his sketchbook shut and rose, setting it in the chair he had vacated before stretching his hands above his head, arms fully extended. Bucky could hear his spine pop, which made him curious as to how long Steve had been keeping vigil in the room. 

 

Steve approached the bed with a shy smile, an amusing emotion considering Bucky was the intruder in this man's home. The moonlight lit his face softly, causing his skin to glow like pure marble and his blue eyes to look clear and pale, reflecting light like the surface of water. Bucky was hard-pressed to look away. 

 

“May I?” Steve gestured to the edge of the large bed and Bucky nodded. He sat before pouring a glass of water from a pitcher that had been placed on the bedside table, and Bucky accepted it gratefully, the cool water dancing down his throat. 

 

Steve watched him thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke quietly. “This was my mom's favourite room.” 

 

Bucky wasn't sure what he'd been expecting Steve to say, but that hadn't been it. 

 

“It wasn't original to the house, she had it built after my father passed, and spent most of her mornings here. I preferred the nights though, looking at the stars through the glass. It made me feel..“ Steve trailed off, becoming lost in his own words and memories. “In any case,” he finally continued, “I hope you'll be happy here.”

 

Bucky sat in silence with him for a moment, considering Steve's generosity in spite of losing his mother so recently. “It's beautiful Steve. Thank you.” 

Steve nodded and they slipped into a companionable silence, watching the stars emerge until Bucky's body once again protested too loudly, and he couldn't help letting out a whimper of pain. 

 

Steve retrieved the laudanum quickly and held the spoon to Bucky's lips, his hands shaking too badly to do it himself. Steve sat silently with him as the worst of the tremors subsided, eyeing the bottle of medicine critically. 

 

“I'd like for our doctor to examine you in the morning, if you have no objections. I know you've been to hell and back already, but there must be a better way to manage your pain.” Steve's voice was soft yet determined in the dark of the room. 

 

Bucky nodded, head already floating in the clouds. “Whatever you'd like, husband.” 

 

He slipped back to sleep, but not before seeing the sad smile resting on Steve's face.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you reach Chapter 3 first, which just went up! Enjoy!

 

 

Dr. Stark arrived early in the morning at Steve's request, in a flourish of activity that only Tony was capable of. 

 

He swept into the kitchen where Steve was getting his hand swatted away from a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls, Peggy, the estate’s long-time cook, admonishing him for reaching out before they had cooled enough. 

 

Steve didn't know her exact age, he assumed she must have been pushing eighty by now, but she could still crack a wooden spoon across his knuckles just as well as she had when he was a child. Lovingly, of course.

 

Steve satisfied himself by stealing a piece of bacon instead while her back was turned. 

 

“Steve, a pleasure as always!” Tony’s charisma arrived almost before him as he pressed a quick kiss to Peggy’s cheek before pumping Steve's hand in greeting. 

 

“Pegs, lovely as always. Have you given my proposal anymore thought?” 

 

Peggy shook her head slyly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline once again darling. I'm too afraid you'll break a hip during the consummation.” 

 

Tony had an ongoing offer of marriage extended to Peggy, despite her nearly 40 years on him, which amused the rest of the household to no end. 

 

“Well then, I suppose I'll just have to try again next time.” Tony took the rejection like water rolling off a duck’s back. It wouldn't be the first, or the last time. “Now dear Steven, tell me about this husband of yours.”

 

* * *

Steve was literally pacing the halls outside Bucky's room when Tony finally exited, his examination complete. 

 

“Well?” Steve urged impatiently. “Is there any way you can ease his pain?” 

 

Tony wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, an uncharacteristic display of concern. “I think we all need to have this discussion together.” 

 

Bucky's face was pale as Peter, the page Steve had assigned to assist Bucky, helped him get readjusted in bed. 

 

Tony pulled over a chair as Steve took a seat on the bedside, hands folded in his lap to keep from reaching out to Bucky. Steve had known his contracted husband for less than a week, yet he found the urge to touch him increasing more and more everyday. He fought the impulse more often than not. He didn't want to make Bucky uncomfortable. He had signed up to protect his sister’s interests, not to be fussed over by a near stranger. 

 

“First, Sergeant Barnes,” Tony’s words snapped Steve back to the present, “there is still shrapnel in your lower back, further down than the fragments that were removed. That is the source of most of the pain. Based on your responses, I don't believe you to be truly paralyzed. Swelling around the wound would have created that problem within the first few days, but the swelling has abated now.”

 

Bucky's brow was creased, his eyes alert. “If it's not the shrapnel causing the problems, why can't I move my left side properly?” 

 

“I think you're suffering from a combination of issues, but the worst of the problems are the results of too much laudanum. You were prescribed massive doses to deal with the pain, and I believe you may be suffering from opium poisoning. It can cause extreme muscle weakness and lack of appetite.”

 

Bucky had been living on broth and laudanum for weeks, the doctors seeing no reason to manage his intake as he was considered a lost cause anyways. 

 

“By the time the swelling would have gone down to the point that you would have been actually able to move, you were practically starving and so weakened from opium that you would have seemed paralyzed. There is a high chance you're addicted to it now as well.” 

 

Bucky breathed out harshly, and Steve couldn't help it any longer, he reached his hand out and laced their fingers together, the crease in Bucky's brow subsiding slightly at the contact. 

 

“What a vicious cycle. The worse my condition got, the more they encouraged me to take the laudanum, and therefore my condition kept getting worse.”

 

Tony nodded. 

 

Bucky looked like he was still trying to grasp the magnitude of this discovery. “If I stop taking the laudanum, will I recover?” 

 

Tony frowned. “It's not quite that simple. Stopping the medication will bring your appetite back, but the pain may be unbearable. If you become strong enough to walk, the shrapnel could shift and permanently damage you. The safest course of action would be to stop the medication and have you confined to a wheelchair.” 

 

Tony had a look in his eyes, though, which caused Steve to finally speak up. “You have a different idea, don't you.” It wasn't so much a question as it was a fact. 

 

“The alternative option is surgery. It's dangerous, and removing the shrapnel could cause the type of damage you've already been assumed to have. There's also the risk of infection, not ideal for your weakened state. But if it works, you could be walking again within a week.” 

 

The hand holding Steve's squeezed tight. Bucky took a deep breath. “How soon can you operate?” 

 

“I'd have to gather some equipment from home, but there's nothing on my schedule this afternoon,” Tony replied lightly, but Steve could tell there was a bit of urgency to the offer. Bucky wasn't getting any stronger laying in bed. 

 

Steve looked to Bucky, their eyes meeting in a moment of wordless communication, before Bucky stiffly nodded. “No time like the present.”

 

“For what it's worth,” Tony’s voice was as kind as Steve had ever heard it, “I'd make the same choice, if it were me.” 

 

Bucky's eyes went to the bottle of medication on the nightstand. “Ever since I started taking laudanum, I've felt like a stranger in my own body, like I can't even grasp my own thoughts.” His mouth twisted. “I thought it was because I was dying.” 

 

“You'll need it for the operation,” Tony pointed out gently, “but after that, you'll have to cut back gradually. If you do it all at once you'll face several wretched days of cravings, shaking, sweating, and God knows what else.” 

 

“If I cut down gradually, what are my chances of success?” 

 

Tony looked troubled. “It's a hard habit to break. I knew a man who tried to quit gradually and failed miserably. Perhaps he would have failed anyway though. It's ultimately up to you to decide which method you'd prefer.”

 

Bucky nodded, and Steve could tell he'd already made up his mind to never touch the stuff again once the surgery was complete. 

 

“Well then,” Tony stood, clapping his hands together once, “it sounds like we have a plan.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was thankful the surgical preparations involved covering most of Bucky's body with sheets. It was far easier to pretend the form under them was that of a stranger, and not the vulnerable body of his new husband. 

 

Only the strip of skin along his spine where Tony would be making the incision was visible. 

 

“I'll assist with the instruments” Steve suddenly found himself saying. 

 

“Are you sure Steve? I wouldn't want you to get the vapors.” Tony elbowed Steve in the side good-naturedly. 

 

Steve stuck his chin out defiantly, causing Tony to smile. “I do  _ not _ have the vapors.” 

 

“Very well then,” Tony conceded. “Let's get started.”

 

* * *

Steve slumped down the wall outside of Bucky's room, coming to sit on the floor with his head in his hands. 

 

As far as Tony could tell, the surgery had been a success. 

 

Steve didn't know whether to laugh or cry at this point. He absolutely wanted Bucky to live, had come to want it more than he had thought possible.  But now that his husband had turned the corner, Steve couldn't help but be worried for the future. 

 

They couldn't be divorced, or the terms of his mother's will would not be met and he would forfeit everything to his uncle. The problem was though, even if a divorce had been possible, Steve wasn't sure it's what he would have wanted. 

 

Tony emerged from Bucky's room finally, where he had been giving Peter detailed instructions on Bucky's care as he slept and recovered. 

 

He looked tired but satisfied, a knowing glint in his eye as he took in Steve sitting on the floor. “Does this establishment happen to have any good whisky available?” 

 

Steve levered himself to his feet and proceeded to get devastatingly drunk with the good doctor.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I saw Infinity War last night and have been making dying whale noises and staring blankly at walls since then, so here is some comforting fluff to make up for all these feelings. No spoilers in the comments please for those who haven't seen it yet. Thank you :)

 

 

Steve was laying in a haze in bed, attempting to sleep away his hangover, when a knock sounded at his bedroom door. Peter stuck his head inside a moment later. 

 

“My Lord? The Sergeant is very restless, I thought it best to wake you.” 

 

Steve was out of bed in a moment, pulling his housecoat over his pajamas and moving briskly down the hall. 

 

Steve opened the door to the atrium to see Bucky had rolled onto his back and was twisting beneath the bedcovers. Steve's breath caught in his throat as he witnessed Bucky's left leg move, just a twitch, but enough to confirm Tony had been right - there was no paralysis. 

 

Steve drew close to the side of the bed and placed a hand on Bucky's brow, thankfully not finding a fever. 

 

Bucky immediately calmed at the contact, his mouth twitching up as his eyes remained closed. “Mmm, Jeanette, magnifique,” he practically purred at the touch.

 

Steve pulled his hand away quickly. “Nope, I'm not one of your French hussies.” 

 

Bucky cracked his eyes open, hooded and a little owlish as he awoke. “You don't know what I'm dreaming of. Jeanette could have been my horse.”

 

Steve couldn't help his burst of laughter at that, Bucky grinning like a cat at the response. 

 

“If that's how you speak to your horse, I can't begin to imagine how you speak to your lovers.” Steve's words were out before he thought them through, and caused Bucky's feline smile to turn positively wolfish. 

 

Steve fought the blush climbing his cheeks with little to no success. He decided to change the subject instead. “The operation went very well. Tony believes you'll have full use of the leg again. Your left arm had quite a lot of damage done as well, but it was mostly cosmetic.” 

 

Bucky was so still for a moment, Steve wasn't sure if he had been listening. Then, very slowly, he moved his legs on the bed, lifting them together very slightly in the air. He collapsed back onto the pillows a moment later, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. 

 

“It's true,” Bucky's voice shook. “I can move. As for the arm,” he shrugged slightly, “I was never winning any beauty pageants anyways. As long as it works.”

 

Steve didn't believe Bucky could lose a beauty pageant even if he tried, but thought better than to argue that particular point just now. “How are you feeling?” He asked instead. 

 

“Horrible!” Bucky exclaimed gleefully. “The pain is astounding! But I can move Steve!” Bucky's smile was infectious and Steve couldn't help matching it with one of his own. 

 

“You should eat something solid before the withdrawal symptoms really start to kick in. Do you have any requests?” 

 

“Ohh,” Bucky's eyes widened with possibilities. “Can we have pancakes? And eggs. Bacon. Some berries too, maybe. Hmm. Toast,  possibly with jam…” 

 

Steve cut him off with a laugh. “I'm not sure your stomach will be able to handle all that at once. How about the pancakes and some juice to start?” 

 

“Fine,” Bucky grumped from the bed, sounding for all the world like a petulant five year old, “but you owe me a big breakfast next time Stevie.” 

 

Steve paused in the doorway, his orders given, before looking back at his husband in the bed. “You're going to be nothing but trouble from now on, aren't you?” 

 

Bucky nodded and smiled. “Damn right.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky himself confirmed just how much trouble he was going to be, for when Steve returned to his room for a visit that afternoon after sharing breakfast, (despite Bucky's enthusiasm, he had only been able to eat one pancake, but Steve would never forget the look of pure bliss on his face as he had taken that first bite), he found his husband clinging to one of the bedposts, attempting to stand. 

 

“Jesus Buck,” Steve rushed forward, gathering Bucky into his arms just before the man collapsed onto the floor. Instead, he collapsed into Steve, who gently lifted him back into bed. “What on earth are you doing?” 

 

Bucky took a minute to catch his breath, chest heaving under Steve's hands, before answering.Steve pulled his hands back when he realized he had kept them in place for so long. 

 

“Oh, you know,” Bucky was panting but his tone was light, an obvious misdirect from his pain. “Just going to wash up.” Bucky gestured to a steaming basin of water set to the side of the room. “I know I can't do a full bath yet, but I wanted to wash my hair. Peter brought it and then I dismissed him for the afternoon. I assumed I could handle such a simple task myself.”

 

Steve sighed. “Your independence and pride aren't worth more than your health Bucky.” 

 

“And how would you know?” Bucky shot a challenging look at Steve. 

 

“Because I was bedridden as a child for issues with my lungs. It felt as though I could barely breathe at times. I grew out of it once I hit puberty, but there were generally more days than not that I was confined to a bed growing up.” 

 

Bucky snapped his jaw shut, smothering any fight left in his body. 

 

“I know it's difficult,” Steve continued softly, “but please let me help you.” 

 

“Yeah, sorry Steve. I didn't know.” Bucky breathed out. He wouldn't meet his eyes though. 

 

Steve knocked their shoulders together on the bed, finally getting Bucky to lift his gaze. “Just don't be so stupid in the future.” 

 

Bucky cracked a smile and nodded, their eyes meeting for an extended moment. 

 

Steve cleared his throat and stood. “So, how do you want to do this?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You want your hair washed, right? So how about we get you in a chair, and I'll do it for you?”

 

Bucky's Adam's apple bobbed. “That would be fine.”

 

* * *

 

As Bucky lay in bed that night, he contemplated the fact that he had so quickly broken a promise to Steve.  

 

He had told him he wouldn't be so stupid in the future, and yet had agreed to Steve washing his hair not five minutes later. 

 

Bucky was a royal idiot. 

 

His pain had been getting steadily worse as the drugs in his system filtered out, but he had focused through it to concentrate on Steve's long fingers as he had carded though his hair. It had felt miraculous.

 

Bucky had accidentially tucked his nose into Steve's neck when he had almost fallen, and so he knew that Steve had to have fetched his own personal soaps for Bucky's use as well. Something flipped oddly in his stomach at the thought. 

 

He had been overwhelmed by the sensation of him, Steve's scent in his nose and now on his body, his fingers smoothing through Bucky's hair carefully, his large presence behind Bucky's body as Bucky sat in a chair with his head tipped back. Steve's fingers had tickled across his exposed throat at one point, gathering escaped strands of hair, and Bucky was almost sure that the last few days had been an opium-induced hallucination. There was no way he had gone from dying in a dark hospital room to recovering at a handsome Lord's mansion so quickly. 

 

The possible hallucination had continued to woo him, as it had Steve carefully dry his hair and assist him back to bed, grabbing a bowl of fresh blueberries from the kitchen to share between them, distracting Bucky from his increasing tremors and discomfort with stories of his turbulently amusing childhood. The young Steve he spoke of was all spitfire and defiance, jumping into fights for any little injustice in the world. Bucky couldn't help but smile at the image of a little Steve with his fists held up, fierce determination in his eyes and blood on his lips. 

 

The hallucination reached it peak when, just as he had begun to fall asleep, Bucky swore he could feel Steve pull the bed covers higher around him, and sense the ghost of his breath as he brushed a kiss along Bucky's head. 

 

It couldn't have been real, Bucky decided, because when he woke up, every nerve in his body was on fire.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday lovelies! Hope you enjoy! <3

 

 

Time was a funny thing for Bucky after that. 

 

It felt like his body was stuck in the lurches of a permanent heart attack, his pulse fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings one moment, almost seeming to stop at others. He would be drenched in sweat and then suddenly freezing, lost in a dead sleep and then crying out in pain. He had a moment of clarity where he wondered when he had gotten a sore throat before realizing he had screamed himself hoarse. 

 

Becca was there, holding his hand and speaking reassuring words. 

 

Sam was there, reading aloud from a book, the plot of which Bucky was unable to follow. 

 

Tony was there, checking his stitches and pupils, promising this would soon pass.

 

And Steve was there, running a cool cloth along his brow, bringing a glass of water or cup of soup to his lips, murmuring quiet words into the darkness. 

 

Bucky wished Steve would had stayed away. He didn't want him to see Bucky like this. It didn't stop Bucky from leaning into his touch when Steve's large palm cupped his face to check him for fever though, or from trying to open his eyes against the thunderstorm in his head whenever he heard Steve's deep voice in the room. 

 

Time slipped and bled away and Bucky saw the stars overhead and the morning light, and the pain went on, and on, and on.

 

* * *

For two and a half days, the pain experienced by Sergeant Barnes filled the whole house. 

 

Steve's nerves were frayed. 

 

He took as many shifts as he could without running himself completely ragged, finally being ejected from the room by Sam, who told him to stop being an idiot and to get some rest. 

 

Steve went to bed, he did, but on the third night he found himself walking the halls of the manor, more often than not lingering outside Bucky's room. 

 

Knowing he was being foolish, Steve ran a hand over his tired face and began to make his way back through the halls to his bedroom. 

 

He was almost there when he saw a shadow lurch. Steve moved forward quickly to investigate, and found the figure in the dark was none other than the man who had refused to leave his thoughts for the past week. 

 

Bucky was shambling his way down the hall, bumping off walls and clinging to furniture as he made his unsteady way to whatever destination his unconscious mind had created for him. 

 

Steve stared, amazed that he could make it so far on his own so soon after his operation. Sam had probably slipped off to sleep by mistake, Bucky managing to wander off without waking him. 

 

Steve approached him quietly and laid a gentle hand on him, trying to direct him back to his room. “Come on Buck, let's get you back to bed.” 

 

Bucky's mouth split into a pleased grin and he threw his arms around Steve's neck, pressing their bodies tight together. “Jeanette!” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I am  _ not  _ Jean-” 

 

Steve's words were cut off as Bucky pressed his lips to Steve's, tongue darting into Steve's mouth in one of the most immediately intimate kisses Steve had ever been involved in. 

 

Bucky was a dirty kisser, and the sensation of his mouth working open Steve's lips, his hands wandering to Steve's backside, his hips pressing into Steve's crotch, went straight to Steve's cock. 

 

A moan caught in his throat and Steve wretched himself away, placing his hands on Bucky's chest to keep some distance between them. 

 

“Enough.” Steve's voice sounded ragged to his own ears. 

 

Bucky opened his mouth to speak, or maybe kiss again, but his legs wobbled at that moment and Steve was catching him once again, Bucky suddenly fast asleep and feeling like a ragdoll in Steve's arms. He picked him up in a bridal carry and made his way to his own bedroom, Steve depositing him on the bed before climbing in beside him. 

 

His room had been closer, he reasoned, and he could keep a better eye on his wandering houseguest from here. 

 

Steve fell asleep beside his husband, one hand wrapped around his wrist in a gentle hold.

 

* * *

When Steve awoke, Bucky was studying him curiously from the other side of the bed, dark brows furrowed and grey eyes sharp. 

 

Steve rolled over to face him, their noses inches apart. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered. 

 

Steve’s voice was rough and low when he replied. “Yeah Buck?” 

 

Bucky met his eyes. “I have something important to ask you.”

 

Steve swallowed. “Anything.”

 

“Can we put blueberries in the pancakes today?” 

 

Steve knew then that Bucky was going to be ok.

 

* * *

Bucky had set down his fork and was wiping the syrup from his lips, having just finished his blueberry pancakes, when a flurry of noise came from the entryway of the mansion. 

 

He was finally feeling well enough to take his first meal in the dining room with Steve, an impressive spread of breakfast foods laid out before him, fine looking china and crystal glasses resting casually on the table. Bucky didn't know if Steve used place settings of such high quality all the time, or if he was treating this as a special occasion of sorts. Going by the slight hint of pink in his cheeks as Steve gazed at him from across the table, Bucky suspected it may be the latter. His heart gave a strange flutter at the thought. 

 

Suddenly an older man was bursting into the room, pointing an accusatory finger at Steve. 

 

“What is the meaning if this?” The man was positively livid, the pointed finger trembling. 

 

Startled, Steve's eyes went wide at the intrusion. “I beg your pardon?” 

 

The man took a threatening step closer to Steve, unmistakable hatred burning in his eyes. “I've been informed you took a husband. Who did you buy, some fortune hunter willing to take you, despite all your flaws?” 

 

Steve's face was burning red, but the red Bucky was seeing was his own anger, directed towards this monster of a man. 

 

Bucky swallowed his rage and kept his tone cool and light as he stood from the table. “Would you be so kind as to introduce us Steve? I don't believe I've had the pleasure before.” 

 

Steve’s mouth dropped open but he quickly got with the program, standing and making his way to Bucky's side. 

 

“Bucky, this is my uncle, Alexander. Uncle, please meet my husband, Sergeant James Barnes. 

 

Alexander turned his glare on Bucky. “So you're the one taking part in this farce. I've never even heard of you! How much is he paying you?” 

 

Bucky kept his false smile plastered on. “Of course you don't approve that your beloved nephew has thrown himself away on someone with no notable wealth or land. Someone of his good looks, charm, and generosity should be with someone more deserving. I have pointed this out a million times, but my darling Stevie here, well. You know how romantic he can be. And I can assure you, I am receiving no payment for this.” Bucky watched Steve from the corner of his eye, barely holding in a smirk. It was true technically, all the money was going directly to Becca. 

 

Steve, bless him, swung his arm around Bucky's waist, an obvious display of affection, but also subtly taking some of Bucky's weight, keeping him steady. Bucky had to keep himself from laughing out loud as Steve practically cooed at him. 

 

“Darling, you do say the sweetest things. As if any man wouldn't be proud to be yours.” He turned to Alexander. “Such modestly with this one,” he went on, gesturing to Bucky. “He would of course fail to mention his own bravery, or his levels of intelligence and wit. Land and money aren't everything after all.” Steve's blue eyes were dancing, and Bucky couldn't resist, he turned his head and kissed Steve on the cheek, his lips delightfully tickled by the beginnings of a beard Steve had somehow come to have while Bucky had been in the throes of withdrawal. 

 

Steve's face blushed beautifully and that seemed to be the last straw for Alexander, for he turned on his heel and left in a huff. 

 

Steve stood wrapped around Bucky for a moment before he seemed to catch himself and pull away. His flush remained though, as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I think I rather like being married,” he laughed. 

 

Bucky was surprised to find he couldn't disagree.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanl you for all the lovely comments so far everyone, you're amazing!! So happy to see people enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it!   
> .

 

 

The following day dawned bright and clear. Steve stood at his bedroom window, scratching lazily at his incoming beard as he admired how the pinks and golds of the sunrise hit the gardens just so. 

 

He then looked further down the walking path and swore under his breath. 

 

Bucky was moving along the path slowly but much more steadily than he had that night in the hallway, having acquired a cane from God knows where. He was completely alone. Of course. 

 

Steve was suddenly struck by visions of Bucky teetering into the rose bushes, subject to lie there for all eternity, susceptible to scratches and wild animals and frostbite (it may have been June, but still!) and began hastily throwing on clothing before making his way outside. He was two steps from the door before his rational brain took over, and he paused for a moment.

 

Bucky had been able to survive warfare in foreign lands for many years. It was possible that he would not collapse and die of hypothermia in a garden in the middle of summer. But still. 

 

Sharing breakfast again perhaps. That would satisfy Steve's mother-hen instincts to check on the Sergeant, but also not be such an obvious display of worry on his own part. 

 

It was decided then. Breakfast. 

 

Steve detoured to the kitchen to quickly pack up a small basket of food and drinks, along with a blanket. The ground was slightly wet with dew at this early hour, and he didn't want Bucky to become damp, take a chill, and die of lung fever.

 

Peggy eyed him suspiciously from where she was pulling a rack of cinnamon rolls out of the oven, but said nothing. 

 

Steve stole a handful of the rolls and ran. 

 

He slowed his pace to almost normal as he approached Bucky, who still carried his soldier's instincts apparently, for he turned while Steve was still several yards away, a grin breaking across his face as he took in Steve and his basket. 

 

“Morning.” Steve greeted him casually, tramping down on the absurd little notion that he should be greeting Bucky with a kiss as well. 

 

“Good morning Steve,” Bucky drawled and yes, it was in fact a good morning, Steve's heart pulsing in his chest as he admired Bucky in the morning sun. The golden rays hit him in a way Steve had never seen before, lighting up his skin and eyes and making him look warm and healthy and oh so alive. He was still a bit too lean in the face and body, Steve remembering the feel of his ribs as they pressed against him in the hallway that night all too well, but he looked miles away from the Bucky he had met in the hospital bed. He looked  _ whole.  _ And the thinness could be fixed easily enough. 

 

Steve held up his basket. “Cinnamon roll?”

 

* * *

 

“Do I have something on my face?” 

 

Bucky's question seemed to startle Steve from whatever dreamland he had been living in over their shared breakfast. Those sky blue eyes were more glazed over than Bucky's cinnamon roll.

 

“No, no, you're perfect. I mean, it's perfect, your face.” Steve's Adam's apple bobbed. “It's fine. Your face is fine.” 

 

“Ok. Is there a reason you're staring at me then?” Bucky squinted at him, amused but also slightly concerned. Maybe Steve had been out in the heat too long? His face was getting red. 

 

“No. Um, no. Just wondering what you wanted to do today. I was thinking it might be nice to get out of the house a little. Take the carriage out maybe? If you feel ok, that is.” 

 

Bucky smiled at Steve's rambling. He was usually so put-together, it was rather endearing to see him so flustered. It made Bucky wonder just how red Steve's face could get. 

 

“Sure. Nothing like a first date to kick off a marriage.” Bucky joked, delighted to see Steve officially reach a new level on the crimson scale.

 

* * *

The following days were much of the same; they would share breakfast together in the gardens, then take in a leisurely activity to whittle away the rest of the morning. Depending on Bucky's endurance levels that day, sometimes they would take the carriage out, Steve giving Bucky tours of the neighbouring land. If Bucky was feeling stiff or experiencing more pain than was usual for him now, they would stay at home, chatting in the gazebo or reading together in the library, a comfortable silence wrapped around them. 

 

They would split up for the afternoon, Bucky completing the recommended exercise Dr. Stark had assigned before taking a much needed nap, or visiting with Becca or Sam, as Steve attended to his household duties. 

 

They would then come together again at dinner, dining at the main table that Steve always ensured was set with the finest china. 

 

It was a simple routine, and Bucky fell into it easily. Which is why any change, even a subtle one, was enough to catch his notice. 

 

There were flowers on the table at dinner. 

 

Bucky had nothing against flowers. He liked flowers. But there were flowers on the table at dinner, and usually there were not.

 

“Why are there flowers?” Bucky was nothing if not straightforward. 

 

Steve blushed that familiar pink Bucky had come to adore. “They're from Peggy. It's, well. It's my birthday.” 

 

Steve wouldn't meet Bucky's eyes, as if he was embarrassed by his own existence. 

 

“Steve! You knucklehead! Why didn't you tell me?” 

 

Steve lifted his eyes bashfully. “It's not a big deal, it's just a day.”

 

“Steve, it  _ is  _ a big deal. It's  _ your  _ day. Your 30th birthday! And you deserve presents! I didn't get you a present! I'm a horrible husband!” Bucky was amping up his outrage at himself in an effort to make Steve come out of his own embarrassment and laugh. What he got instead was the most sincere look Steve had given him yet. 

 

“You could never be a horrible husband Bucky.” 

 

“Ah. Well.” Bucky didn't know how to respond to that, only knew that his heart was thumping and his stomach was fluttering from the way Steve's blue eyes were meeting his, ernest and pure. 

 

“Well,” Bucky repeated, licking his dry lips, “I guess when we celebrate next year, I'll have to double my efforts.” 

 

For some reason that was enough to make Steve look as though Bucky had just given him the greatest gift of all. 

 

“For now though,” Bucky raised his glass, “happy birthday Stevie.” 

 

They toasted, and the smile Steve gave him from across the table made Bucky feel like he had been given a gift today too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical mother hen Steve is my new favourite thing to write. He's so cute.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, there are 3 extremely different alternate chaper 8s on my Google Drive right now because I kept being unhappy with plot development. I'm going to save them and maybe work them in later on, but yah, I wasn't twiddling my thumbs this week, I was just writing a bunch of stuff I wasn't happy with at this point in time. Sorry for the wait either way!

 

 

Bucky was lying on the grass by the garden's stream, face tilted towards the mid-afternoon sun, when he heard soft footfalls approaching. He couldn't help the small smile that took over his face; Steve must have finished his duties early today. 

 

He cracked his eyes open against the glare and was surprised to find that it wasn't his husband approaching, but Becca. 

 

“Sister,” Bucky greeted, surprised but delighted nonetheless, “lovely day for a visit.”

 

“Indeed,” Becca plopped down beside him, the put-on aristocratic tilt to her voice making Bucky smile fondly. Becca and the proper definition of a ‘lady' never quite went hand in hand, and Bucky loved that about her. He’d had much more fun riding horses and having rough and tumble play with her as a child than any boy and his sister likely had a right to. He considered himself very lucky for this. 

 

Becca smoothed her skirts down and cast a concerned eye his way, causing Bucky to sit up from his relaxed position. “Or maybe it's not so lovely after all?” He questioned at her look. 

 

Becca sighed and was silent for a moment, never a good sign. “What are you doing Bucky?” 

 

Bucky lifted a wry brow. “I was sunbathing until you interrupted-”

 

“I mean with Steve,” she cut in.

 

Ah. Well. “I'm holding up my end of the bargain.” 

 

“I understand that. What I don't understand is why you seem so reluctant to end this ruse when you're now getting better.” 

 

Bucky swallowed. “It's a contract Becca. I can't break it, or Steve will lose his inheritance, and you'll lose your security.” 

 

Becca nodded. “Yes, it can't be broken, but have you considered that there may be a way around it?” 

 

Bucky felt his throat become tight, a small shake of the head all he could manage. 

 

“I was looking at the copy of the inheritance agreement, and found that there may be a loophole. It stated that you would be wed before Steve's thirtieth birthday, and specified that your marriage would not end in divorce. Those are the terms.” Becca quirked an eyebrow at him, oblivious to his sudden stress.

 

“Meaning what exactly?” Bucky found his voice again, but didn't like where it was taking him.

 

“Meaning you could still qualify for an annulment. Steve's contract would still technically be satisfied, as a wedding took place and you will not be divorcing. It would simply… dissolve the marriage.” 

 

Bucky closed his eyes and settled back into the grass, feeling as though the sense of peace he had gained earlier was seeping out of him into the ground. “On what grounds would we be annulled though? There would have to be a valid reason.” 

 

“That's where your injury comes in,” Becca went on, pride colouring her voice for her clever discovery. “If you have not consummated the marriage yet, you could claim that you are no longer… sexually functional, and unable to satisfy your husband. You were paralyzed for a time. Who is to say you ever regained proper function?” 

 

“Becca!” Bucky shot up from the grass, glaring at his sister, “why are you even thinking about this?” 

“Because this is your life!” She exclaimed back. “Because you deserve to spend it with someone who makes you happy.”

 

Bucky's voice was quiet, but his answer was true. “I am happy here.”

 

“But what about Steve? Why would he arrange for a false marriage in the first place? Did he discuss  _ why _ with you at all?” 

 

Bucky thought back to his horrid hospital stay, when the wash of pain and drugs and the looming face of death made everything grey and hazy. “Sam talked to me about it, he made the offer before I met Steve. He said Steve didn't want to settle, that he wasn't the type to be tied down.” 

 

“And now he's stuck with a husband who didn't die.” Becca’s bluntness was like a punch to the gut, and Bucky had to close his eyes again for a moment. She wasn't wrong.

 

“Steve… he's been so nice though. He… it seemed like he wanted me here.” Bucky's voice sounded small to his own ears. “He hasn't asked me to go.”

 

“You're a wounded veteran Bucky, and Steve is a gentleman trying to do the right thing in a bad situation. He's a decent human being, and he's kind. But don't confuse kindness for something else. Talk to Mr. Coulson and see if I'm right about the annulment.” Becca’s voice was a bit softer now, but no less true. “See if you can both be free from this. You deserve to live the life you want, and so does Steve.”

 

Bucky nodded, voice thick. “You're right. He does.” 

 

* * *

Steve felt like all the blood in his body was drying up as Phil spoke from across the table, Bucky at his side, his face absolutely void of emotion. Steve wanted to hurl his water glass at the wall just to see that face react in any way other than this maddening neutrality. 

 

“...so I do believe you have a very strong case.” Phil was finishing up and Steve had to be  _ on,  _ had to say  _ something _ . He looked to Bucky, who wouldn't meet his eyes. Steve wanted to scream. “Is this what you want?” His voice was low but level, at odds with the emotional catastrophe taking place inside him.

 

Bucky wouldn't lift his gaze from the table, but he gave a small nod. 

 

Phil looked to Steve. “Should I begin to file for the annulment then?” 

 

Steve kept his eyes locked on his husband, looking for some kind of sign that this was ridiculous, that this was a bad dream, because hadn't they been happy just the day before, and in all the days prior? Hadn't Steve been happier than he had ever been since meeting Bucky? The thought that Bucky had just been biding his time until he was well enough to leave made Steve’s stomach churn. It didn't sound like Bucky to just be playing a part - he had been too genuine, his smile reaching his eyes and making the corners crinkle delightfully when he laughed, his grey gaze intent and interested as they shared stories of their childhoods, or discussed their favourite books as they relaxed together after dinner. Steve had felt a connection, one he thought couldn't possibly be fake. But to have this happen so suddenly, maybe he really didn't know anything. He didn't want Bucky to stay against his will, but he did want him to  _ stay.  _

 

Bucky kept his eyes locked on the table, and Steve sent out a final silent prayer for the universe to step in, for a bolt of lightning to come down and tell him this was a mistake.

 

The lighting didn't come, and Bucky didn't lift his head, so all Steve could do was nod. 

 

It was what Bucky wanted.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're worried and you haven't read any of my other stuff, please know I have literally never written an unhappy ending. BBs just have to have the sadz for a while, because plot. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

The glow of the sunrise was filtering through the glass panels of the roof and walls, painting Bucky's skin in pink and gold, highlighting the warm olive of his skin and the chestnut in his hair. 

 

Steve stood in the doorway, his hand poised to knock on the doorframe again, after his first attempts at waking his housemate went unsuccessful, but he had to pause and take a breath at the vision in front of him. 

 

Steve wanted this man, so, so badly, and he was slipping through his fingers like fine sand.

 

It had been a week since they had filed for the annulment, and according to Phil, it would take several weeks to be processed, possibly months. In the meantime, they were required to keep living together until it was finalized, in the off-chance Bucky's ‘problem’ corrected itself. Steve wasn't about to say no to the extra time with Bucky, not at all, but there was a particular ache that went along with all their interactions now, like standing in sunshine so bright it would burn you. It hurt Steve to be in his presence, so close to something he couldn't have, but he was going to soak up the remaining time nonetheless. 

 

For now though, he needed to wake Bucky. He just wished there wasn't a countdown on how long he had left to see those early morning bedroom eyes each day. 

 

He approached the bed instead of knocking again, deciding on a gentler approach. He took what he had come to think if as his place when Bucky had been ill, at the side of the mattress, sitting down gently as not to startle his sleeping guest. He listened to Bucky’s breathing for a moment, calm and even in the relaxed state of sleep, before running his hand through Bucky's hair gently, letting the silky strands drape back onto the pillow as he went. 

 

“Buck,” he whispered quietly, not wanting to shatter the peace of the room, but needing Bucky to stir. “You need to wake up.” 

 

Bucky shifted slightly on the mattress, tilting his head into Steve's hand like a cat begging for more. Steve increased the pressure slightly and spoke a little louder. “Bucky.”

 

“Mmmm Stevie,” Bucky murmured into the pillow, eyes still closed but body shifting towards Steve, until he had moved down enough to somehow wrap himself around Steves upper leg. 

 

Steve had to move this along, or he was going to have a hard time stopping himself from leaning down and brushing a kiss across the forehead of the man suddenly cuddling his thigh. “What, no Jeanette today?” Steve finally asked. 

 

Bucky finally opened his eyes and looked up at Steve, making no attempt to remove himself from Steve's leg. “Horses are terrible at cuddling,” he stated seriously. 

 

“Oh my god Bucky, please, give it up!” Steve simultaneously threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes, causing Bucky to smile brightly and innocently at him from his place on the bed. “I know Jeanette wasn't a horse!” 

 

“Why are you so obsessed with her anyway?” Bucky's smile was shifting into dangerous territory, his lips curving and eyes darkening in a way that could convince Steve to confess not only his deepest desires, but also the secret ingredient to his mother's famous apple pie recipe, and perhaps where Blackbeard's famous treasure was hidden. 

 

“I didn't come in here to be interrogated,” Steve deflected with a grin at Bucky's persistence, “I came because an urgent letter was received for you this morning.” Steve shifted his leg on the bed to allow himself to reach into his pocket and pull the envelope out, causing Bucky to frown and finally sit up in bed. His hair was slightly mussed from the pillow, and Steve placed his hands on the bed to keep himself from reaching out to smooth it back. 

 

Bucky opened the letter and read with a furrowed brow. “My cousin passed away.” 

 

Steve's smile dropped from his face. “I'm sorry. Were you close?” 

 

“No,” Bucky's eyes remained on the letter, disbelief on his face. “I wasn't aware I had even had any surviving family. I thought it was just Becca and I. They didn't have any next of kin either.” Bucky lifted his gaze to meet Steve's eyes. “As the eldest member of their remaining family, I've been left with their entire estate.”

 

* * *

 

The property was surprisingly close, a day's carriage ride away, and after making the appropriate arrangements, Bucky was eager to make the trip and see what exactly he had inherited. 

 

Steve had been fluttering around that morning, knocking over his glass at breakfast and lingering in doorways as Bucky double checked he had all his necessary belongings. He assumed he would be staying at the property for at least a week while he assessed the grounds and ultimately decided what to do with the place, but he was reluctant to be leaving Steve for that long. 

 

A little voice in his head reminded him he would be leaving Steve permanently soon enough, but he squashed that thought as soon as it began. No sense dwelling on it now. 

 

As they approached the coach together, Bucky about to depart with Clint as his driver and attendant for the week, the furrow in Steve's brow increased tenfold. 

 

Steve bit his lip. “I'm just worried…” 

 

“Yes?” Bucky was hovering outside the carriage door, dragging the moments out until they absolutely had to say goodbye. 

 

“You're still recovering,” Steve said in a rush, “and regardless of how quickly you've gotten better, a day’s ride will be hard on you. Plus you'll have to walk the grounds, and assess the property. I'm not trying to be presumptuous, but how knowledgeable are you in such things?” Steve's expression was all earnestness and concern, and Bucky knew the remark wasn't made in an offensive way. 

 

“I was a career soldier Steve,” Bucky admitted. “I can't say I have much knowledge in the way of managing a great deal of land, much less an estate with staff.” 

 

“I… I mean. I do those things here.” Steve supplied, rubbing the back if his neck and looking everywhere but Bucky. “And I have nothing pressing happening this week.” 

 

Bucky smiled, relief and something else running through his veins. “In that case, would you be available to come with me?” 

 

Clear blue eyes met his. “I suppose I could be convinced.” 

 

Steve packed a trunk and twenty minutes later they were on the road together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't over for them yet, don't you worry! (Also it's my favourite that Steve is still jealous of the infamous 'Jeanette' lol)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys are already upset about the lack of communication going on between these two, you're going to be screaming by the end of this chapter. The denial of feelings and level of them NOT TALKING ABOUT IT going on here is driving me insane, and I wrote it lol we also earn our M rating in this chapter finally! Enjoy!

 

The trip was pleasent, any lingering awkwardness since the meeting with Phil dissolving completely the further they got from home. The days following that disruption had been slightly tense and much more silent, but slowly they had gotten back to normal, a fact Steve was forever grateful for. Living with Bucky but being unable to laugh, to touch, to smile, had been like a knife in Steve's gut. 

 

He was beyond happy that the unexpected trip not only allowed him to spend the week with Bucky, but that it began with their thighs pressed together in the carriage, joking and talking like nothing had changed.

 

Despite them taking multiple breaks throughout the day however, giving Bucky the opportunity to stretch and walk around, by the time they arrived at the property that evening Steve could easily see the pain that had settled into Bucky's body. He held himself stiffly and without his usual grace, letting out a small huff of air whenever they would hit a particularly large bump.

 

Steve chose not to remark on it, but did hold out his hand to help Bucky down from the carriage when they arrived, Bucky accepting the hand without hesitation.

 

The property was large and sprawling, the main revenue of the estate relying on the surrounding farmland, lending it a more functional than beautiful appearance. The main house was much more modest than Steve's, but even at first glance Steve could tell it was of solid construction and had good bones.

 

Steve turned his attention back to Bucky as they waited for the door to be opened, Bucky leaning heavily on him as several long minutes passed before someone answered.

 

They were greeted by a young woman named Wanda, who introduced herself as the housekeeper as well as the cook. Steve wondered how bad things had gotten here before the head of the household had passed, if one young girl was responsible for two large jobs, and was still the one answering the door. His attention was brought back to the present though by Bucky gripping his arm tightly after the introductions concluded.

 

“As much as we would love to discuss things further with you Wanda, I must admit I am rather exhausted from travelling today. Would you be able to show us to our room for the evening, and we can pick up again in the morning?” Steve asked politely, aiming a charming smile her way.

 

Wanda flushed. “Of course my Lords! I apologize, I should have considered this. Let me show you the way.”

 

Steve agreed that that would be lovely, and followed along with Bucky, allowing the man to rest his weight on Steve as much as possible. Steve could understand not wanting to show weakness as the first impression when meeting his new household staff, so was happy to take the lead here, while also electing to get Bucky comfortable as soon as possible.

 

They were led to the master suite, and Steve was pleased to note the large bed in the main room, as well as a large tub for bathing off to the side.

 

“Wanda, would it be too much trouble to ask you to draw a bath as well? It would be nice to get the road dust off.” Steve didn't give two thoughts about a little dust, but knew Bucky's muscles would appreciate the soak.

 

“Of course!” Wanda jumped to attention, seemingly happy to have someone in the empty house to cater to.

 

As Wanda worked, Steve helped Bucky over to the large bed and lowered him to gently sit. Bucky's lips were pinched and white, the relief in his eyes palpable as he took the weight off his legs.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, meeting Steve's gaze.

 

“Of course.” Steve's answer was just as soft as they waited for Wanda to finish up.

 

She was quick and kind, making them promise to fetch her in the night should they need anything as she exited the room with Clint, who had brought their luggage in. He would be staying in the staff quarters for the trip.

 

Alone at last, Steve looked back to Bucky on the bed. “How bad is the pain?”

 

Bucky's smile was rueful. “I'd felt good for so long now, I'd almost forgotten how terrible this could be,” he joked roughly. Steve noted he didn't really answer the question, but wasn't going to argue the case.

 

“Ok then, up and into the bath.”

 

Bucky groaned and flopped to the side, pressing his face into the blankets. “Don't want to.”

 

Steve caught his shoulder and carefully pulled him upright. “I know, but if you don't relax your muscles, they'll seize even worse overnight and you'll barely be able to walk tomorrow.” Steve's tone was soft but left no room for arguments.

 

Bucky let out a sigh, moving with a grimace. “You're right.” He went to stand but his legs wobbled, Steve by his side in an instant to keep him from falling before lowering him back down.

 

Bucky closed his eyes, face distorting with pain. “I don't think I can Steve,” he breathed out.

 

“Then I'll help you. I am your husband after all.” Steve's joke fell horribly flat as Bucky just gazed up at him from the bed, face unreadable.

 

His grey eyes were locked to Steve's as Bucky finally nodded and lifted his arms out.

 

Steve swallowed, the mood of the room shifting suddenly with the realization of what he had just offered.

 

Bucky sat there expectantly, eyes not leaving Steve's face, as Steve lifted shaking hands and started on the buttons of Bucky's shirt. His hands grazed soft flesh as he pushed the garment from his husband's shoulders, revealing that deliciously smooth skin Steve had only dreamed of.

 

Bucky's eyes were dark as he set his hands on Steve's forearms, their combined strength lifting him into a standing position, his face flushed as Steve knelt down and helped him remove his shoes and socks. His hands came to land on Steve's when they finally rested on the closure of his pants.

 

“You don't have to.” Bucky's voice was low and raw, like the words were being torn from him.  

 

Steve met his eyes, dark and intense in the candlelight of the bedroom.

 

“Please,” Steve whispered from his place on the floor, “let me.”

 

Bucky held his gaze in silence for a long moment before dropping his hands with a sharp nod, body trembling slightly.

 

Steve swallowed his nerves, his lust, his overwhelming desire to rip the clothes from Bucky's body and throw him onto the bed, and instead quietly unbuttoned his trousers, keeping focused on the task at hand.

 

He slid Bucky's pants and undergarments down in one final motion, sucking in a quick inhale as his husband was fully revealed. He could feel Bucky breathing deeply and shaking slightly above him, and although Steve desperately wanted to lick a long stripe up his husband's beautiful cock, to catch the precome that was starting to bead at the tip of his filling length, to finally know how this man tasted, he instead rose to his feet and picked Bucky up swiftly into a bridal style carry.

 

Bucky huffed out what sounded like a mixture of a laugh and a moan as he was deposited into the tub, tipping his head back into the lightly scented water.

 

Steve had to look away then, the image of Bucky naked and vulnerable in the tub too much for him to bear. His heart and cock both throbbed painfully at the sight.

 

The reprieve didn't last long though, as Steve could practically feel Bucky's eyes on the back of his head.

 

Steve turned to see Bucky watching him carefully from his place in the water. “Wash my hair for me?” The request was softly spoken, giving Steve an unspoken option; he could walk away whenever he chose. Steve, knowing he would rather walk through fire than walk away from Bucky, approached the bath, using every ounce of willpower to keep his gaze above the water.

 

Bucky moaned as Steve's fingers lathered his long hair, and Steve was struck with the memory of the first time he had done this for Bucky, when the man had been much more weak and frail but no less beautiful for it.

 

If Steve had felt confused and lust-filled then, he was positively out to sea and hopelessly in love now.

 

Steve wasn't given the opportunity to dwell long on his feelings however, because as soon as he had finished with Bucky's hair, a soft cloth was being placed in his hand, the man in the tub leaning forward to expose his broad back.

 

Steve became a full witness to the scars of war Bucky had collected then, and traced them gently with the soapy cloth, wishing his tongue was doing the tracing all the while.

 

Back complete, Bucky leaned back and tilted upward slightly, _thrusting_ , Steve thought suddenly, to expose more of his front, Steve feeling as though his heart was going to give out at the sight.

 

 _Bucky was_ _in pain,_ he reasoned. And Steve would do whatever he could to provide some relief.

 

He watched Bucky's expression carefully as he drew the cloth down his chest, the man's eyes fluttering shut as Steve ghosted his hands across his nipples and down to his abs. Bucky sucked in a sharp breath as Steve dipped below his navel, and Steve drew back for a moment, concerned.

 

“Please don't stop.” Bucky's words were barely a breath, a plea in the golden glow of the room, and Steve was unable to resist, lowering his hand until it caressed Bucky beneath the water, Bucky's body shuddering at the contact, his cock twitching in Steve's hand.

 

The movement below the water set Steve ablaze, reaching again for the soap and lathering his hand before plunging it back under the water, the cloth forgotten, stroking Bucky to complete hardness as he lay in the warmth of the tub.

 

Steve ignored the intruding thoughts of what this all meant as Bucky started letting out little gasps of pleasure, Steve's only train of thought narrowing down to _yes, yes, more._

 

Steve picked up his pace, twisting his wrist and smoothing his thumb over Bucky's silky tip, causing Bucky to cry out and arch back, the ache in Steve's own pants completely forgotten as Bucky throbbed and released in his hand.

 

Bucky slumped back against the tub, finally opening his eyes again as Steve rinsed his hand off and removed it from the water, keeping his place at the edge of the tub.

 

Bucky's expression was a confusing mix of emotions, relief and pleasure mingling with something that looked like fear as he breathed heavily into the quiet of the room, catching the breath that had been punched out of him.

 

Steve didn't want to see anything close to stress on that beautiful face, so he gently held Bucky's hand in the water and met his gaze. “Do you feel better?” He asked quietly, not wanting to break the peace in the room.

 

Bucky only nodded, seemingly at a loss for words.

 

“If you're ever in pain while we're here,” Steve had to pause, hardly able to form the sentence but needing to put the offer into the universe, in the smallest chance Bucky would agree, “we can do this again. It doesn't have to mean anything. You deserve to feel good, and I can help you.”

 

Bucky's throat worked and he closed his eyes for a moment, stormy grey meeting Steve's clear blue when he finally opened them again.

 

“It would help. With the pain.”

 

Steve nodded. “Right. With the pain.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment before Steve noticed Bucky's slight tremor in the cooling water. He carefully lifted Bucky from the tub, keeping him pressed close to his body for support as Bucky dried himself, his legs quivering like that of a newborn foal. Steve found his own legs weren't fairing much better, but decided to ignore it, filing it away with the pressure that still existed in his own groin.

 

He helped Bucky dress in his nightclothes before pulling his own on, keeping his back turned as he changed, but feeling Bucky's eyes flickering over his back like flames while he stripped and dressed.

 

He crawled into the bed beside his husband once he had finished, listening to Bucky's breath in the dark of the room as they lay beside one another, legs just slightly touching under the blankets.

 

If there was anything more than pain management happening, they didn't discuss it, and if Steve got up in the dark, bringing himself to a painfully silent climax once he heard Bucky's breath even out into the relaxed cadence of sleep, nobody but Steve needed to know.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens for 'pain management' at your deceased cousin's house stays at your deceased cousin's house I guess. 
> 
> Also if this is how Historical!Steve helps with pain, I'mma need to find me some Historical!stairs to throw myself down asap.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi gang! I'm so sorry for my unreliable update schedule (i.e no schedule at all) so thanks for your patience! I have a number of excuses for the delay, but they're boring, and there's a story to read! Go forth, faithful readers! <3

 

 

Bucky awoke to the sensation of warm pressure against his body, the rays of light filtering in through the window only increasing his sense of cozy comfort in the cool morning air.

 

He turned his head slightly to find Steve pressed up against his back, one long arm draped across Bucky's middle.

 

The events of the night before suddenly came flooding back, and Bucky was grateful Steve was still peacefully sleeping, as the rush of blood to both his face and cock at the memory were likely to be more than noticeable.  

 

Bucky breathed deeply, letting the surge of emotion pass before settling comfortably back into his pillows. He was still worn from the previous day's trip, and was also reluctant to wake Steve until he had his thoughts sorted.

 

Last night had been... Well. Beyond belief, almost. No doctor would have prescribed that sort of pain management for a patient, he thought ruefully, but Bucky couldn't argue that it hadn't been effective to say the least. He was more than willing to let Steve take over his care away from home if this was going to be the case, Tony's physical exercises be damned. The release of tension from his body, the easy way his limbs had gone limp afterwards… it was more than anything he could have accomplished with his own hand. Likely because seeing Steve's face in person, having his hands on Bucky's skin while blue eyes flickered over his form like the candles lighting the room, was so much more potent than anything he could imagine in his mind's eye.

 

Physically, Bucky had been elated, his body finally feeling at ease as Steve had tucked him quietly into their bed, the pain pulsing through his body having gone from a hurricane to a light breeze. His heart though, that was another story. Steve had told Bucky it didn't have to mean anything, and Bucky's chest had ached with the pain of that simple sentence. It was obvious Steve was still not interested in furthering their relationship, his good intentions probably formed from some sort of misguided gratefulness for Bucky's willingness to continue the charade. That was likely it. There wouldn't be other reasons. Bucky was not meant to have more than this.

 

If this was the case though, if Steve was just being kind and helpful, Bucky saw no reason why this… gift, shouldn't go both ways. Steve had saved his life, by way of getting in touch with Tony. He had secured Becca’s financial future. He was sweet and smart and funny and had opened his home to a dying soldier he had only just met. Steve deserved good things.

 

As Steve's arm tightened across him in his sleep, pulling him closer and sticking his nose into Bucky's neck with a soft sigh, Bucky thought maybe he could be the one to provide them.

 

* * *

 

They spent the day touring the main house and reviewing paperwork, allowing Bucky the time to become familiar with the estate on his new property.

 

Much to Steve’s concern, he had been correct with his initial assessment of the household’s well-being when Wanda had answered the door; there were only two staff remaining due to financial problems. Wanda, who was essentially doing everything within the house itself, and a stable hand named Natasha. Steve's eyebrows had risen at the mention of a female horse-wrangler. However careless with money Bucky's cousin had been, he had at least been progressive in his household, a merit Steve approved of.

 

Steve had also approved of how Bucky had taken in the scene, with eyes open to the reality of the situation, but also with a youthful optimism that left Steve yearning to tuck him into his arms and hold tight. Bucky saw _possibilities_ here, a future beyond the dying fields of crops and the mismanaged financial documents.

 

Steve knew he would make a fine landowner, fair and kind to his staff, while taking on the responsibilities of the estate with a clear head and good intentions. Bucky wouldn't hesitate to make a decision, to solve a problem, or to stick his hands in the dirt and get things done.

 

Steve could see why men had faithfully followed him in times of war.

 

He _inspired._

 

Steve swallowed the sudden knot in his throat as Bucky made a frustrated noise, brow furrowed as he took in yet another financial record. “I can't make heads or tails of this,” he sighed before setting the paper down.

 

They were ending the day in the study, Wanda having pulled out all the necessary papers relating to the estate’s finances. There were a lot, and they were, quite frankly, a mess. Steve expected most of their week would be spent figuring out just how bad exactly things had gotten here.

 

“If you'd like a break,” Wanda’s voice was soft in the fading afternoon light, “there is another room to visit that you may enjoy. A wine cellar below the kitchen.”

 

Bucky's eyes crinkled as they met Steve's across the room, and Steve bit back a grin as Bucky practically threw down his documents and jumped to his feet. “Yes, please.”

 

* * *

 

Wanda handed Bucky a candelabra and Steve two glasses before excusing herself to begin preparing a light dinner, a slight flush to her cheeks as Bucky charmingly instructed her not to go out of her way for the meal. She had been more than helpful with their findings that day, and Bucky was kind enough to see the girl was as tired as they were. Steve wondered if Bucky could see how taken she was with him as well, her cheeks blushing every time Bucky had been particularly witty or kind to her throughout the day.

 

Steve couldn't blame her - he had a crush on him too.

 

Wanda promised to prepare the meal and then retire for the night, allowing the men to serve themselves later at their leisure after their cellar exploration. With a nod of thanks she departed, and Steve was once again alone with Bucky.  

 

“Shall we?” Steve asked, gesturing to the staircase.

 

“Après vous,” Bucky bowed dramatically towards the door and Steve shot him a surprised look.

 

“You speak French?”

 

Bucky answering smile was smooth as silk. “I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve Lord Rogers. You haven't seen all of me quite yet.”  

 

Steve felt his face heat at his words, recalling all too well that he had indeed seen a good portion of Bucky last night in the tub. “Guess you're just full of surprises,” Steve finally managed.

 

Bucky just smirked and moved to open the door, Steve following a moment later, still feeling slightly flustered. Had Bucky worded things that way on purpose? Did he mean to invoke that image in Steve's mind?

 

Steve's train of thought halted as he entered the cellar though, the sheer enormity of the room being an overwhelming surprise. Rows upon rows of casks filled the space, a small label attached to each one, describing the date, quality, and origin of the wine inside. The wall racks were filled with bottles, tilted carefully to keep the corks moist, and in one corner of the room stood a work table that held a number of funnels and corks, among other equipment.

 

It was without a doubt the most impressive room in the house, and judging by Bucky's expression, he thought the same.

 

“Good God.” Bucky's mouth was adorably unhinged, the expression of disbelief on his face a new one to Steve's eyes. Steve made a mental note to try to surprise Bucky more in the future, or at least in the remaining future they had, to garner this reaction again. It was unapologetically endearing.

 

“You'll never have to buy wine again, even if you live to be one hundred,” Steve joked, examining one of the rows of casks, this one full of apple cider.

 

Bucky nodded, expression turning thoughtful. “There must be a small fortune in wine here. Selling them could raise some money for the estate.”

 

Steve hummed in agreement. “Just promise you won't sell everything. My mother always said good wine was the mark of a gentleman's table.”

 

Bucky smiled mischievously. “Then I shall promise to retain enough to uphold my reputation. Now where is the champagne?”

 

“Perhaps a wall rack?”

 

Sure enough, one whole rack was devoted to champagne, Bucky observing it with a critical eye. “Blast if I know the best vintage,” he shrugged. “My dear husband, take your pick.”

 

Steve snorted a laugh and plucked a bottle out at random. “This one.”

 

“Hrmm, yes, a fine choice good sir,” Bucky’s put-upon seriousness producing a fond eye-roll from Steve. Bucky set the candles on the work table before opening the bottle, bubbles pouring out the top despite the care he had taken, and a laugh pouring out of Bucky as the suds spilled over his fingers. “Ah, well,” he furrowed his brow at the bottle as if it had betrayed him, before bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean with a soft pink tongue.

 

Steve only barely resisted the urge to adjust himself at the sight.

 

“Steve?”

 

Steve's attention snapped back to the task at hand as Bucky repeated his name.

 

“Yeah Buck?”

 

“The glasses. I need them if you want a drink.” Bucky was eyeing him curiously, and Steve finally shuffled forward with the glasses, letting Bucky fill them.

 

“You know,” Bucky began lowly, “sometimes people will bend their arms around one another's to drink a toast. Possibly to keep themselves from falling over. It's tradition to empty the glass in one swallow.”

 

Steve's throat bobbed as Bucky moved closer. “And what would we be toasting?”

 

Bucky met his eyes. “How about to new opportunities?”

 

Steve nodded, moving the final step to put them close enough to link arms. He could feel the heat radiating from Bucky's body, and found that when they wrapped their arms together their heights worked perfectly, Steve only an inch or so taller.

 

“To new opportunities,” Bucky whispered, touching their glasses together before they both downed their champagne.

 

The bubbles tingling in Steve's mouth were second only to the sizzle of his blood as he inhaled Bucky's scent, their bodies so close now their thighs touched.

 

Steve's pulse pounded as Bucky took his glass and carefully set them both by the candlestick. Then, with even greater care, he cupped Steve's face in both hands and kissed him with a gentle thoroughness. Their tongues touched, and the hammer of his heart turned to the pounding of battle drums.

 

“This… this isn't right,” Steve finally managed to breathe out once they pulled back for air.

 

“Why not?” Bucky's voice was a whisper in his ear, his face now nuzzling into Steve's neck. “You are my husband. How can this be wrong? Do I repulse you?”

 

“No, God no,” Steve shook as Bucky traced his ear with his tongue.

 

“If you truly do not object,” Bucky murmured as he moved back to Steve's mouth for a moment, stealing his breath in another glorious kiss, “I want you to think of nothing but here, and now, and us.”

 

Steve nodded against his lips, their eyes meeting again as they broke the kiss. Then Bucky was sinking down to his knees and Steve became lost in sensation.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna say I feel like a massive dick for not responding to comments like I used to back in the old days of Tinfoil Hat. My time is very limited these days as a new parent, but please know I read every single one and they make me squeal with happiness and motivate me to write faster, so even if I don't respond, please know I appreciate you being here! So thanks, you guys are amazing!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Have another short chapter to make up for my lack of posting! 
> 
> Just to be clear about the first line as well, 'Steve woke up alone' is not implying they spent the night together in a sex-having way, they had their first kisses and then Bucky gave Steve a good ol BJ, but then they went to bed (to sleep!) together without doing anything else (the fools!)

 

 

Steve woke alone, dressing and completing a light breakfast before Bucky came striding into the dining room dressed in boots and riding clothes. 

 

Before Steve could work up a proper blush from memories of the cellar the evening before, Bucky was approaching Steve at the dining table, raising his chin and kissing him, warm and firm. By the time he stepped away, Steve's embarrassment from the night before had vanished. 

 

“Good morning,” Steve said a little breathlessly. “You must have risen early.”

 

Bucky nodded and slipped into the chair beside Steve. “I wanted to check out the stables and lost track of time. Sorry I missed breakfast.” Bucky's smile was light and easy, reaching over to pluck an apple from the bowl on the table. “The horses are nearly as beautiful as the ones at your estate. I was planning on taking one out to ride around the property and get a better view of the crops and land, but wanted to check in with you first. I think you'd like the foal, if you'd like to come look.” 

 

Steve smiled at Bucky's contagious enthusiasm. “Let's go see.” 

 

The stable was as Bucky had described, well cared for much in the same way the wine cellar had been. 

 

“My cousin seemed to have a good eye for horses and wine,” Bucky chuckled as he petted the snout of a lovely grey mare. “Too bad he hadn't thought to invest in his crops or staff.” 

 

“You'll do both,” Steve encouraged. “Farm well, with a nicely kept home.” 

 

“In time, I hope.” Bucky sighed, some of his exuberance fading. “I can't manage both right away.” 

 

_ You could with my money,  _ Steve thought as he made nonsense noises to the pretty little foal Bucky had mentioned.  _ You could if we combined our households, and we could do it without selling off wine and horses.  _ Between them, they could have quite a partnership. 

 

“You'd be the new Lord?” A voice from behind him startled Steve from his thoughts. He turned to find a slim redhead entering the stables, holding out her hand for a shake. Steve met her firm grip easily. “Natasha Romanoff.” 

 

Steve smiled at her straightforwardness. “You can call me Steve.” 

 

Bucky, having met Natasha earlier, asked her to saddle a tall dark bay. As she complied, Bucky turned to Steve. “Come with me? We can saddle the grey while you change.” 

 

Steve hesitated, tempted, before shaking his head. “You go. There's an entire study's worth of financial nonsense inside, and I feel like I'll be best suited there for now. Let me know what you find though.” 

 

Bucky nodded, a look of disappointed understanding on his face. 

 

“With your permission, I'll confer with Wanda to determine the needs of the house as well.” 

 

“If you wouldn't mind,” Bucky agreed thoughtfully. “I don't know much about farmland, but I know even less about running a household.” 

 

Glad he could be of use, Steve turned to go, bidding Bucky a good day until they would meet again at dinner. 

 

Steve did pause however, to watch him ride away, unsurprised that he was an excellent horseman. Bucky did everything well, in a casual, unpretentious way. As a man of good looks, skill, and now land, he was an undeniable catch. He would make someone an excellent husband some day. 

 

On that remarkably depressing note, Steve returned to the house.

 

* * *

 

Bucky kissed Steve again as they met for dinner, leaving Steve more than a little surprised, but too delighted to question it. 

 

“Did you have a productive day?” Bucky asked, as Steve worked on controlling his blush. 

 

“I did,” Steve smiled. “I got a little further in sorting the finances, which is a relief. The house itself is in need of some beeswax and elbow grease, but it's structurally very sound. I had Wanda enlist a few girls from town to come tomorrow to help with the scrubbing. Apparently they're all perishing of curiosity to see the handsome new Lord and his manor.” Steve laughed. 

 

“They'd be better pleased to see his husband, I'm sure,” Bucky winked, causing Steve's blush to rise again at full force. 

 

“In any case,” Steve cleared his throat, “it's actually much more lovely here than I initially thought. The windows are large and the light is good. Once it's clean I have no doubt that we- I mean, you-” Steve stumbled, “you'll have a real showplace here.” 

 

Steve swallowed a spoonful of soup to cover up his misstep before changing the subject. “What did you discover on your ride?”

 

Bucky made a face. “Wanda wasn't exaggerating about how much needs to be done before we can begin farming in earnest again. Also how much riding muscles can ache after months without being on a horse.” 

 

“Well,” Steve lifted his eyes from his soup, a rush of boldness striking him as opportunity presented itself. “I may be able to help with a few of those things.”

 

* * *

As Steve sank to his knees in their room later that evening, Bucky's thick cock filling his mouth beautifully, Steve absently considered Bucky's behaviour as of late. The casual kisses, discussing their days and the household over dinner, how happily domestic they had become. The general ease and companionship they both seemed to feel with one another. The way their lives and bodies seemed to fit so well together. 

 

As Bucky gripped his hair and cried Steve's name desperately with his release, Steve couldn't help but wonder if Bucky could perhaps feel the same way. 

 

Maybe there was more than convenience to this relationship. 

 

Maybe Steve still had a chance.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you (everyone, me too really!) who is like "why can't they just talk about it!?" try to remember that them talking solves basically all their problems, and no problems = no story. So bear with me as I make them be uncommunicative idiots for now. I promise we'll get to a confession of feelings eventually, I just want to write more story first :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! I think we're coming to the logical end after this so I've put a final chapter count of 15 on here, which would be a final chapter and an epilogue after this. I've really enjoyed this universe but I think we've run the course :) I'll probably post them together, so it may be a little time before the next and final update. Thanks for the love friends! Xoxo

 

 

They decided to ride out together the following morning, Bucky eager to show Steve his favourite parts of the property and get his opinion on the land, while also not-so-obviously avoiding the village girls who had been hired to clean the house. Steve seemed to think their fawning and giggles were funny, but Bucky was more embarrassed than flattered. Not that long ago he had been a half-dead soldier with nothing more to his name than an honorable discharge. The swift change to an ‘object of desire,’ (as Steve had suggested with a wink and an elbow jab to the ribs, and Bucky had accepted with a fierce blush), was a little too much for him to bear.

 

After touring the main points of the property together with a critical eye, Steve helpfully pointing out areas for suggested improvements, Bucky led Steve to his favourite find from the day before: the apple orchard. It spanned over several rolling hills, and Bucky took them to the highest, with a long view over the patchwork of fields he now owned.

 

Bucky's heart warmed as Steve inhaled deeply and slipped off his horse easily, smiling at the scenery with bright eyes. “I expect it's beautiful here in the spring when the trees first bloom.”

 

Bucky nodded. “I'm looking forward to it. The grove seems well established, and I found a cider house with a press over the ridge yesterday,” Bucky jerked his chin in that direction. “I'm hoping we can get things in order enough to produce some once Autumn really sets in, maybe turn a bit of profit.”

 

As Steve hummed agreeably, Bucky opened the saddlebag on his horse, pulling out a blanket along with a small assortment of food, setting the items up under a full tree. Steve took notice and began to tether the horses, their unspoken duties falling into place without a thought.

 

They settled onto the blanket together companionably, comfortable with their own thoughts and the sound of the wind in the leaves to accompany them.

 

As Steve plopped back against the blanket with a satisfied sigh from a full belly and the warm air, Bucky didn't hesitate to lay down beside him, settling his head on Steve's chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

Steve's heartbeat was deep and steady, his chest warm under Bucky's cheek, and before Bucky knew it, he was drifting off into an easy afternoon nap.

 

* * *

 

The remainder of the week was much of the same, making plans for the estate while enjoying the sort of domestic bliss Steve had thought only belonged in fairytales that ended in _happily ever after_.

 

Before he knew it, the week was up and they were packing for home, Bucky nudging Steve with a smirk from where he stood beside the carriage to look towards Clint, who was exiting the stable with rumpled clothing and a puppy-love expression on his face. Natasha emerged from behind him a moment later, looking flawlessly put-together as always.

 

Wanda and Natasha saw them off, Bucky having met with them earlier to say his thanks and make plans for a return visit as soon as possible. They had done well holding down the fort with so little resources, and Steve was happy with the plans he and Bucky had crafted to hopefully get the property back to it's once prosperous state.

 

Steve had been thinking of his own plans as well, a way to pay off the debt the property had accumulated without Bucky's objections. Steve knew Bucky's pride would never accept the gift of that much money, even though Steve was more than happy to give it, so he was entertaining a few thoughts of ways he could contribute financially without causing a fuss. Simply paying the debt behind Bucky's back would only result in an argument ending in Bucky claiming he didn't need charity, and Steve knew better than to let that happen.

 

As the trip wore on, Bucky dozed against Steve's shoulder and Steve put his brainstorming on hold as he tried to concentrate on the feeling of Bucky's warmth against him, trying to commit to memory the soft puffs of breath he exhaled as he slept, for fear that reality would be all too happy to welcome them back once they arrived home.

 

He wasn't wrong.

 

He was handed his mail once he returned, a letter from Phil lying on top.

 

The papers for the annulment had been granted.

 

They just needed to sign on the dotted line.

 

As Bucky called to him from Steve's chambers, a bath having been drawn to relax Bucky's muscles after another day of travel, Steve slipped the envelope into his pocket and went to meet his husband.

 

* * *

 

Steve wasn't in bed when Bucky awoke the next morning, but Bucky still couldn't help but blush at the thought of their evening spent together.

 

They were well passed any semblance of ‘pain management,’ but that hadn't stopped Steve from joining him in the tub or kissing him senseless in bed the night before, an intensity to his passion that Bucky had never witnessed before.

 

Bucky dressed with a grin at the memory and made his way to the dining room, finding Steve at the table with a slew of papers spread over the surface.

 

Bucky kissed his cheek before taking his seat, and Steve lifted his head with a smile, although the usual brightness was missing from his eyes.

 

“I want to invest in your cider,” Steve stated without preamble.

 

“Um. Good morning to you too, Steve,” Bucky accepted his breakfast plate from Peggy with a thank you and dove in with gusto as she returned to the kitchen. The food Wanda had prepared while they had been away had been very good, but he had missed Peggy’s cooking heartily.

 

“Your apple cider business. I want to invest in it.” Steve had a determined set to his brows and Bucky set his fork down for a moment.

 

“I don't have an apple cider business.”

 

“You will, this fall. You have the equipment and the resources. I'm sure Wanda or Natasha has seen the process once or twice and could assist with the know-how.”

 

Bucky met Steve's eyes with a confused look. “Where is all this coming from?”

 

Steve shrugged easily, but his hands were busy twisting his napkin into knots. “I've been wanting to branch out in a business sense, and I think this would be a good investment. You'd be doing me a favour, really.”

 

Bucky hummed consideringly as he sipped his tea. “I suppose you've already thought of the terms?”

 

Steve nodded bashfully. “I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I had a few ideas.” Steve slid a paper in Bucky's direction and Bucky quickly took in the contents.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Buck-”

 

“Steve, there isn't even a business yet, and you want to invest this much? Your return will be peanuts. This is the most foolish agreement I've ever heard of, and I'm in a contracted marriage!”

 

“Not for much longer.” Steve's face turned flat and he pushed another set of documents across the table to Bucky. “The annulment papers arrived. We just need to sign.”

 

Bucky felt as if the air had been punched from his lungs. “I thought Phil said it would take longer?” His voice wavered slightly but Steve didn't seem to notice, his attention set on the papers facing Bucky.

 

“Yes, well, I guess things were sped along for us.”

 

“How very considerate.” Bucky couldn't help the sarcasm leaching into his words, and was pleased to see Steve's mouth quirk up at the corner at his tone.

 

“My thoughts exactly.”

 

“You don't actually care about apple cider, do you?” Bucky asked seriously.

 

“I care very deeply for apple cider. I could spend the rest if my life caring about apple cider, if you let me.” Steve's words were steady but soft, and when Steve met his eyes Bucky felt his heart trip over itself.

 

Bucky nodded and pushed back from the table, his pulse pounding rapidly. “This is a very big investment. I need to think about it.” He moved towards the door but looked back to Steve, his face a complicated mix of emotions. “Will you wait? While I think about it?”

 

Steve's smile was small but hopeful, the light returning to his eyes transforming them back to the brilliant shade of blue that had been missing that morning. “I will always wait for you.”

 

Bucky nodded, too afraid to speak for the lump in his throat, and left the room.

 

* * *

 

Bucky found Sam at the hospital, his small office housed on the ward where Bucky had once spent his dying days.

 

Bucky had been surprised when he had asked around the household to be told Sam had been employed at the hospital, and even more surprised when he arrived there that afternoon.

 

The building that had once looked like death itself was now bright and clean, the hallways free of the gurneys and beds that had once filled them due to overcrowding.

 

Now nurses were the only ones in the halls, a substantial amount of them compared to the handful Bucky has seen in his time as a patient.

 

As he rounded a corner on his way to Sam's office, he spotted none other than Tony Stark conferring with a collection of doctors at the nurses station, Tony shooting him a wink as Bucky passed by.

 

Slightly baffled, Bucky knocked on Sam's door, the man in question answering with a smile a moment later.

 

“What on earth happened here?” Bucky asked as he took a seat in Sam's office, Sam sliding into his own chair behind the desk with a grin.

 

“What do you think happened?” Sam questioned playfully. “Your dearly beloved got his mitts on this place, is what happened. Don't you know by now that that man can never leave his Midas touch at home? He took one look at this place while visiting you and basically bought it out.”

 

“Does he do that a lot?” Bucky asked. “Give money to things like this?”

 

“Only if he thinks the cause is worthy, or he's passionate about it. He's not one to spend his time or fortune on things he thinks are frivolous. He's got to love it, you know?”

 

Bucky swallowed thickly, feeling his heart squeeze tightly. “When Steve commits to something he's passionate about, is it for life?”

 

Sam gave him a pointed look. “I know you haven't known him as long as I have Bucky, but this is Steve we're talking about. Have you ever known him to do anything half-heartedly?”

 

Bucky met his eyes, his heart in his throat. “When you came to me with the bargain, you told me Steve needed a marriage of convenience because he didn't want to be tied down to someone. If I'm… with him,” Bucky swallowed, “I need to know he won't regret it eventually and leave. I couldn't-” his voice broke and he took a deep breath before continuing, Sam's concerned expression penetrating him from across the desk. “I couldn't bear to give myself to him now and have him change his mind later. I can't be the one that ties him against his will.”

 

Sam steepled his fingers together and sat back in his chair, considering in the quiet of the room. Finally, he leaned forward across the desk, voice ernest and face open. “You're right that Steve has never wanted to be tied down,” he began, “but I've known Steve a long time, and I can honestly tell you that I've never seen him happier since you came along. You don't tie him down Bucky. You lift him up.”

 

Bucky sat for a moment in silence before he nodded sharply and was out the door, running down the hall before Sam could even register what had just occurred, sticking his head out his office in confusion. “What are you doing Barnes?” He yelled before Bucky could disappear around the corridor.

 

Bucky turned and smiled, a fierce grin on his face. “I'm going into the apple cider business.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #SAMWILSONISAGOODBRO
> 
> Also, if you're subscribed to my other stuff, a new Taming of the Brew chapter went up tonight too, so make sure to pop over there as well for some fluffy fluff!! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final stretch! Thanks so much for all the kudos and feedback for this story, I really loved writing it and will miss it immensely! The epilogue will go up right after this chapter. Love you all! <3

 

 

Steve was still sitting at the empty dining table when Bucky returned, the breakfast dishes having been cleared some time ago. His gaze was fixed firmly on the woodgrain, as if it held the secrets of the universe, and this deep concentration allowed Bucky to slip into the room undetected. 

 

“Steve, what are you doing?” Bucky couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at his lips when Steve jumped as he spoke, finally making his presence known. 

 

Steve's head snapped up immediately, meeting Bucky's eyes before gesturing to the tabletop as if the answer was obvious. “Waiting.” 

 

“You were waiting,” Bucky repeated.

 

“I told you I would wait.” Blue eyes were wide, and innocent, and so, so hopeful. 

 

“That doesn't mean you had to wait in the same spot!” Bucky threw his hands in the air and huffed out a breath. Steve was an idiot. “What if it had taken me a week to answer you?” 

 

“It didn't,” Steve stated the obvious with a smirk, and oh, Bucky wanted to kiss that look right off his face. “You're here now.” 

 

“I know that!” Bucky practically yelled in exasperation. “I just can't believe I fell in love with such a hopeless romantic. You'd sit alone at your own dining room table all day to show your devotion. That's no way to live Steve!” 

 

“You love me?” 

 

“And what if I hadn't come back at all? You'd just waste away here without a second thought, is that it?” 

 

“You love me.” 

 

“Don't even get me started on what other grand gestures I'm sure you'll have planned for our anniversaries and such.” Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Were going to have to talk about that because I will not let you-” 

 

Steve surged up from his seated position suddenly and captured Bucky's mouth in his, effectively silencing him with a passionate kiss. 

 

Bucky melted into it quickly, all arguments about Steve's over the top romantic gestures seeping from his body as Steve tightened his arms around Bucky, his embrace warm and solid and feeling just like home. 

 

Steve broke the kiss and leaned even further into Bucky, his lips soft against the side of his jaw. “I love you too. I think I've always loved you, from the moment I saw you in that godforsaken hospital bed. I didn't know how I could have so much fear for losing someone I barely knew, but by God Buck,” Steve swallowed harshly and buried his face in Bucky's neck. “It was as if my soul was connected to yours the moment we met.” 

 

“Steve, I love you.” Bucky's words were a whisper on his lips but Steve must have heard them down to his core as he trembled slightly at Bucky's admission. “I don't want the annulment.”

 

“No, God no.” Steve’s laugh was wet as he met Bucky's eyes again, a blue ocean reflecting the sun after a rainstorm. “Marry me again, please. We'll do it right this time.” 

 

Bucky choked out his own laugh but didn't hesitate to nod, leaning forward again for another kiss, this one deep and earth shattering. “Of course, yes. I won't deny you your romantic wedding, you sap.” 

 

“I'm going to spoil you excessively, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.” Steve responded with a playfully serious expression. 

 

Bucky heaved a put-upon sigh, his smile threatening to crack the edges of his mask of despair. “If you insist.” 

 

* * *

The sun shone down lazily through the trees as the cool autumn morning weaned it's way into a warm afternoon. 

 

Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow and released the crank of the apple cider press, motioning to Peter to take over, who did so with the youthful enthusiasm only a young man could muster for a chore such as this. 

 

_ Chore  _ wasn't exactly the correct word though. For all of Steve's hidden reasons behind wanting an apple cider business, Bucky was immensely satisfied at the end of each day spent in the orchard, gathering apples and turning the crank as needed with the rest of his new staff. It actually  _ had _ been successfully profitable, and Bucky thought back to Sam's words in the hospital that day in the summer, about Steve's Midas touch, and couldn't help but think the sentiment was true. Everything that man touched turned to gold, apple cider included. 

 

Bucky smiled as the man himself crested over a hill on his horse, his face splitting into a grin as he picked out Bucky's form from among the trees. They had decided to spend the fall and winter at their new property, and Bucky had gone ahead alone the week before at the beginning of cider season, while Steve had tied up loose ends at the main house. 

 

Steve had been due to travel out and join him later that evening, but from the windy sweep of his hair and the flush on his cheeks, it seemed he had rushed a bit. 

 

His horse thundered to a stop a few feet away from Bucky, and Steve's cheeks darkened even further as he seemed to recognize his own level of enthusiasm, sliding too casually from the saddle to make up for it. 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and strode forward, pulling him in tightly for a long kiss. “I missed you too, you nut.”

 

* * *

 

They didn't rush, because they didn't need to anymore. They had all the time in the world. 

 

The following summer saw them back at the orchard house on their anniversary, the morning blooming beautifully. A perfect day for a wedding, Steve thought with a smile. 

 

Steve popped into the kitchen after dressing, Peggy swatting him away from the cake icing and lovingly advising he make himself scarce in her kitchen if he wanted to live to see the ceremony. He did get to leave with a kiss on the cheek though, so he expected she wasn't too upset. It was his wedding day, after all.

 

He floated around the grounds for the rest of the morning, feeling slightly adrift but in a pleasant way, like a sea bird bobbing on the waves in the sunshine, until Natasha had had enough of him lingering around the stables, and went to fetch Sam to provide a sufficient distraction. 

 

Steve could hear Clint laughing from the hay loft as he was effectively kicked out of his own barn, but Steve couldn't bring himself to care.

 

Finally, finally, the time had arrived and Steve suddenly found himself standing at the altar of apple blossoms, surrounded by his friends and family. For all his romantic ideals, they had kept the celebration small, only inviting those closest to them. Steve had sent an invitation for the vow renewal to his Uncle Alexander as well, and had (as expected) received no response, which had tickled Bucky to no end. 

 

Steve twisted his hands together as he waited for Bucky to appear, his eye catching on Tony in the small crowd of guests, as he made some sort of indecipherable hand gesture at Steve. Steve suspected it was a recommendation for how to spend his wedding night, and Steve hastily glanced away as the colour rose to his cheeks. 

 

Besides, he didn't need any tips. They had more than enough to work with thanks to Bucky's days in the military and the ever-so-knowledgeable Jeanette, the French barmaid who had taken a liking to Bucky in his youth. 

Steve had lost all sense of jealousy when Bucky had shown him a maneuver Jeanette had once taught him with his tongue. 

 

Thankfully, Steve's thoughts were pulled from this rapidly inappropriate rabbit hole of thought as Bucky approached the aisle, Becca walking beside him proudly. 

 

Bucky kissed her cheek before taking Steve's hands at the altar, eyes shining brighter than diamonds. 

 

“I thought I told you,” Bucky murmured, hands coming up to brush the stray tears from Steve's cheeks away, “never to weep for me.” 

 

“I’m not,” Steve whispered back stubbornly with a smile, voice quietly breaking. “It’s my wedding day, I’m very happy.” He punctuated his reply with a sniffle. 

 

Bucky smiled then too, full and luminous. “Good.”

 

Their vows were said, and their lips met, and Steve knew, as he had known every day since meeting his husband, that his heart had finally found its home.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

_ Epilogue _

 

Clint and Natasha sat in the back row during the wedding ceremony, holding hands discretely and smiling as their friends were once again united in love. 

 

“I do love a good wedding,” Clint stated later as he pulled Natasha close to dance, his eyes flicking over to Steve and Bucky, who were also wrapped up together under the stars. Steve was dipping Bucky back suddenly to the music and making him burst into laughter with pink cheeks and shining eyes. “But it's only been a year and they're obviously head over heels for one another. Why renew the marriage so soon?” 

 

Natasha shot him a look Clint was becoming to understand as her ‘you adorable idiot’ look. 

 

“Because they're celebrating a real marriage now. The contract doesn't matter anymore.” 

 

“Contract?” Clint scrunched his nose up as he led Natasha to the music, moving through a complicated step pattern that she followed flawlessly before speaking again. “What contract?” 

 

“You know,” Natasha tilted her head, perplexed. “It was a marriage of convenience. They only married originally so Steve wouldn't lose his inheritance, and Becca would be looked after once James passed.”

 

Clint stopped dancing suddenly as other couples continued to sway around then. “No!” 

 

“Yes!” Natasha tugged him along and he began moving again, her leading this time. “How did you not know this? The entire household has known from the beginning! Even  _ I  _ knew, and I didn't meet them until last summer. You drove Steve home from the first wedding! Didn't you find the circumstances odd?” 

 

“No no no.” Clint shook his head. “They've always been in love, just look!” 

 

They glanced simultaneously at the couple in question to see them moving together slowly now, soft kisses and heartfelt glances being shared before they took a quick look around and moved towards the trees together, hand in hand. 

 

Natasha's eyes softened as she turned back to Clint, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Just dance, you imbecile.” 

 

Clint took over leading, dipping Natasha beautifully and swaying to the music in time.

 

_ “It's always been a real marriage,” _ he muttered to himself as he twirled Natasha around, watching Steve and Bucky's figures disappear through the apple blossoms together.  _ “They were just too in love to notice.”   _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a step outside my usual 'fluff and humour' box, so please let me know what you think with a comment or kudos, or both! I really appreciate it!


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